


No Galaxy for Good Jedi

by Annie_Walker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Death, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Kidnapping, Psychological Torture, Sex, Sith, Sith Qui-Gon, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 230,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Walker/pseuds/Annie_Walker
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a young padawan when he ran away with three-year old Anakin. He had no choice after his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, fell to the Dark Side by Master Dooku’s manipulations. To protect the Chosen One, Obi-Wan did what he had to do and now he and Anakin live as outlaws of the Jedi Order and the Republic, being hunted by both Jedi and Obi-Wan’s former master and grandmaster. Now, it’s up to Obi-Wan to train Anakin in the ways of the Force while also stay one step ahead of Qui-Gon and Dooku.





	1. Running from the Past and Future

Obi-Wan felt a tug in his mind. It wasn’t a jerk. It was gentle. Like a nudge. His eyes fluttered opened and he saw the young smile of his charge. Obi-Wan rolled onto his back, pushing away the blankets.

“Anakin–morning,” Obi-Wan muttered to the small boy with bleached hair. He rose up, blankets falling to his feet. “How long have you been awake?”

The boy shrugged as he dragged Obi-Wan to their cramped kitchen. “Not long,” he answered. “I fixed the bike. Replaced the generator.”

Obi-Wan breathed deeply, his nose stung by the stench of dirt and humidity. He slept longer than he intended. He should have been up earlier to help Anakin with their broken speeder bike. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to leave you to do the work.”

“It’s all right,” Anakin said, not upset at all. He loved working with machinery. It was a meditative exercise for him. “As long as you make breakfast.”

Obi-Wan started cooking hotcakes, the only ingredients they had left in their sparse supply. They needed to go into town for groceries. He cooked enough hotcakes for the two of them, giving Anakin an extra slice as he was a growing boy and Obi-Wan… well, he realized that he was never going to reach the height he desired. 

As Anakin scarfed his hotcakes, Obi-Wan took his time. He picked at his hotcakes as his mind wandered off to last night. He had a bad dream. A nightmare. He kept him awake and when he slept, it was restless. 

“Nightmares again?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his plate to Anakin. The boy was perspective. He always seemed to sense whenever things upset Obi-Wan, even when Obi-Wan had his shields up. Anakin was a talented boy. A very special boy.

So, Obi-Wan knew better than lie to him. After all, he promised Anakin he would always be honest. “Just the one,” Obi-Wan replied, taking another bite of his hotcake. “I’m all right.”

The frown on Anakin’s face meant he didn’t believe the last part. Anakin’s blue eyes narrowed and Obi-Wan felt a small poke in his mind. Obi-Wan gave Anakin a look. “What did I say about privacy?”

“What did you say about honesty?”

“I told you the truth.”

“Except the part where you are all right,” Anakin countered, taking his plate from the table to the sink. “Are they getting worse?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s not visions, Anakin. Just dreams and dreams fade in time.”

“But what if—”

“We would know if they were close by, Anakin,” Obi-Wan insisted, his mood souring. He didn’t want to talk about him. “Do you sense them in the Force?”

Anakin paused for a moment and Obi-Wan imagined he was checking. After a long minute, Anakin shook his head. “No.”

“Neither do I,” Obi-Wan agreed and a smile came back to his face. “We’re safe for now. Let’s just enjoy the peace we have at the moment.”

Anakin nodded in agreement. For the past two months, they had been hopping from city to city, planet to planet and galaxy to galaxy. It has been nonstop for them. Either they run into someone from the Jedi Order or—worse—they run into Qui-Gon Jinn and Dooku.

But right now, Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about his old master or his grandmaster. He and Anakin deserved the peace and quiet today. To spend time relaxing and working on Anakin’s Force training. Anakin has been begging Obi-Wan to train him in the next level of katas, so perhaps Obi-Wan would do that today. After all, the boy was becoming more powerful by the day. Soon, he may even beat Obi-Wan in one of their little skirmishes. 

The young man sighed. It was unfair for Anakin to live like an outlaw. He should be in the Temple alongside fellow padawans, learning the Force in a safe and secured haven. Anakin deserved to have stability and freedoms that are being denied from him living on the run. But Anakin couldn’t have that. Not if the prophecy was true. If Anakin really was the Chosen One, he needed to be protected. Even if that meant being away from the Temple and living on the run. Anakin needed protection and Obi-Wan volunteered to be his protector.

Obi-Wan never imagined his life to be like this. When was a youngling, he dreamed himself as a Jedi Knight, living in the Temple and taking on missions for the Republic. He didn’t imagine he would be a disgraced Jedi on the run, raising a small, extremely Force-sensitive child. But he had to. There was no choice. Not after he learned of Qui-Gon’s and Dooku’s plans for the boy.

Obi-Wan shivered at the thought of his old master, Qui-Gon. That man betrayed everything he once stood for. His sudden fixation on the prophecy and desperate need to save the galaxy only drowned him in the darkness that Dooku led him to. Obi-Wan’s grandmaster corrupted his master, turning him to the Dark Side. No one saw the change of their nature. They blinded everyone in the Temple. Everyone but Obi-Wan. He saw what became of his master. He tried to reason with Qui-Gon, but his master brushed his concerns off. Qui-Gon simply told him to mind his business and listen to what he told him. Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon instructions. He did as he was told. After all, he was only a padawan. He traveled with his Master and Grandmaster to planets on questionable missions, but he never said a word. He stayed obedient until they met Anakin.

And only then did he do what he had to. He stole Anakin in the middle of the night and fled. He couldn’t go back to Temple. It would be the first place Dooku and Qui-Gon would look. He couldn’t talk to the Council. They wouldn’t believe him. Not with Dooku as a member. That left Obi-Wan by himself, raising a three year old boy.

That was many years ago now. Anakin was no longer three years old. Instead, he’s a ten year old boy, happy to be with Obi-Wan. He didn’t blame Obi-Wan for his life. In fact, Obi-Wan sometimes believed Anakin actually enjoyed living the life as an outlaw.

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan flicked his eyes back to Anakin. “Yes?”

“I was thinking about going to the junkyard today,” Anakin started, “to pick up some mechanical pieces for a project. Will that be okay?”

Obi-Wan drummed his fingers on the table. It was dangerous to go into town. Their faces were well known and they couldn’t alert the Jedi or Qui-Gon and Dooku to their location. In the early years, Obi-Wan spent a lot of energy defending himself and Anakin from bounty hunters and greedy civilians. It took him a lot more effort if a Jedi Shadow made an appearance. The Force seemed to side with them as they always managed to escape. But, Obi-Wan knew it was only a matter of time until they could no longer run. Obi-Wan only hoped that it didn’t happen soon. Anakin still needed more training.

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Please?”

Obi-Wan stared into those pitiful blue irises. He disliked it when Anakin did that look. Obi-Wan struggled to say no to a face like that. “Fine, but we’ll go later in the day. When most people are gone. Okay?”

Anakin beamed and became light on his feet. He didn’t even mind doing the mindless chores around their tiny house. He cleaned with eagerness, whistling a tune Obi-Wan’s never heard before. When done, Obi-Wan took Anakin to their living quarters and instructed him in a new kata. Anakin did remarkably well. He struggled at first, like any padawan, but eventually he balanced himself out and did the kata correctly. They practiced a few more times and they did a short duel with sticks.

When the sun was getting close to the horizon, Obi-Wan decided it was time to head to the junkyard. Anakin begged to drive, but Obi-Wan said no. “You’re not old enough.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t drive! I’m a good pilot!” Anakin argued.

“I have no doubt,” Obi-Wan said. He’s seen Anakin pilot small vehicles, but a speeder bike was too dangerous for a young man. “But let’s obey the laws for now.”

Obi-Wan drove to the nearest town. Anakin excitedly got out of the speeder, looking around with round eyes at the environment around them. To him, a new planet was a new wonder. To Obi-Wan, a new planet was evaluating the type of dangers it presented. Obi-Wan observed the area, spotting all the exit points they needed to know.

They strolled down the street, hoods up to hide their faces. There were barely any civilians roaming the streets. That was good. It meant less people to worry about recognizing them. They arrived at the junkyard and received permission from the owner to search his yard. Minutes later, Obi-Wan found himself on top of a heap of junk, the setting sun behind him. Anakin was on another heap, digging through the metal scraps looking for something specific.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called to him. “What exactly are you looking for again?”

“A piece of a protocol droid.”

A piece of a protocol droid? “Why?” Obi-Wan followed up.

A sly smile slipped easily on Anakin’s young face. He was so young. “Don’t get mad, but I want to build a droid for us.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples. “And why do we need a droid?”

“To help us out,” Anakin answered. “Having a droid translator would come in handy if we come to a planet that doesn’t speak basic.”

“Or we could learn the language?” Obi-Wan offered. “It would be good to learn different languages and communicate on a more human level.”

“Or we could have a droid to help us easily assimilate into the planet without stumbling into problems like we did in Ithor.”

Obi-Wan frowned at the memory of Ithor. Not Obi-Wan’s finest moment. “That may be, but it is important to not always rely on machines.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “I know, Obi-Wan. But, come on,” he whined. “It’ll be useful to have. It doesn’t have to simply do translations. I can program it do other things like security or cooking and cleaning.”

It was Obi-Wan’s time to roll his eyes. “You are not getting out of chores, young man,” he said. “But, if you still want to build a protocol droid. I won’t stop you.”

Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s smile growing higher, pushing his cheeks up. “Serious? I can build it?”

“Consider it a lifeday gift,” Obi-Wan said as he made his descent down from his heap. “Just don’t go too crazy. I don’t want an annoying droid.”

Anakin didn’t hear him. His excitement of allowing to build a droid got him to furiously dig through the scraps. Obi-Wan chuckled to himself. That boy certainly had a lot of energy in him.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called to him. “Five more minutes.”

“Okay!” Anakin answered, climbing up a new heap to search.

Obi-Wan went back inside the junkyard’s shop, taking shelter from the humidity. The coldness in the room was welcoming. He didn’t life the heat. Anakin was fine with it. He adapted well with different temperatures. Well, the exception being extreme cold. The boy despised snow.

The junkyard owner was grumbling about payment and whatnot, but Obi-Wan promised they would pay once Anakin got what he needed. The owner grunted his retort and went to the backroom, leaving Obi-Wan to mindlessly wander around the shop. There was so much junk that Obi-Wan didn’t know what half of it did. He was sure Anakin could figure it out. He was rather talented with machines. He could look at one part and immediately know what it was and how it worked. Obi-Wan did his best to encourage Anakin’s interest and the protocol droid was one of his ways to show Anakin his support, despite his dislike of droids.

Obi-Wan picked up one of smaller pieces on the shelf. He examined the piece carefully. He tried to think like Anakin, but it was difficult. He never saw the part before. He guessed it was for a K-unit droid based on the shape, but he could be wrong. He probably was wrong. He hardly knew anything about droids.

“It’s a part for jet thrusters of an R2 unit,” said an eerily, familiar voice behind Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan dropped the object and twisted around to find Qui-Gon Jinn standing right behind him. Obi-Wan’s lungs pinched as he fell back, ramming into the shelves and rattling the objects. Obi-Wan looked passed Qui-Gon and saw blood trailing out from the door the junkyard owner walked through earlier.

A smug smile of victory overcame Qui-Gon normally calmed face. “Hello Obi-Wan,” he said, brushing his cloak back to reveal his lightsaber. “I think it’s time you and I talk.”


	2. Confrontations of Another Kind

Obi-Wan chose not to be obedient.

He sent out a warning to Anakin through their Force bond before he made his move to the door—to Anakin—but Qui-Gon was quick. His large hand snatched Obi-Wan’s neck and pinned him against the wall, his back breaking the shelves behind him. The spare parts littered around his feet and the remaining ones jabbed into his spinal cord. Obi-Wan winced at the pressure, but Qui-Gon gave no lease on his hold. Obi-Wan struggled as the Force around him tightened to the point he was frozen.

Qui-Gon smiled in confidence at the sight of Obi-Wan being immobilized. “Now that I have your attention…“

Obi-Wan eyes followed Qui-Gon as he stepped back, taking in his captive. He looked the same as before with the exception of some new wrinkles near his eyes. His hair was grayer, but still long and held up in a half-ponytail. It seemed even Dooku failed to change that one aspect of Qui-Gon. The man did prefer his long, surly hair. The once warm eyes were now calculating and intrusive. Obi-Wan felt the pressure drilling into his mind, the invasion relentless, but Obi-Wan kept hold of his shields. 

Finally, it weaned and Obi-Wan slipped out a soft sigh of relief. 

A shuffle of feet introduced three armed men. Qui-Gon directed them to the yard. "Capture the youngling. Unharmed.”

The three guards nodded and exited to the yard. They switched their blasters to stun. Obi-Wan sent an urgent cry through their bond, praying to the Force the young boy heard.   
Qui-Gon watched the guards depart on their mission before he turned back to Obi-Wan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“I imagine seven years.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “I see your sarcasm hasn’t receded in time,” he said. “But, you’re right I suppose. It’s been seven years since you fled, kidnapping–”

“I did what I had to do.”

“I have no doubt that is what you believe,” Qui-Gon said. “Nonetheless, what you did was wrong. If you had such strong feelings, you should have come to me as any padawan would do.”

“I did! But you didn’t listen.”

Qui-Gon’s brow creased in thought before recognition skittered across his eyes. “Ah… still rambling on about that,” he said in a dismissive manner. “There is so much you don’t know, Obi-Wan. If you hadn’t run off—”

“You would have only hurt me,” Obi-Wan intercepted, testing his bonds with Anakin. He hoped Anakin escaped. At the moment, he only felt a slight touch on Anakin’s side of the bond. “I don’t agree with what you and Dooku planned to do. And I know what Siths do to those who don’t follow.”

Qui-Gon was perturbed by Obi-Wan’s accusation. “When have I, young one, ever hurt you? I can recall disagreements which didn’t lead to violence,” he capitulated. “If anyone has done the hurting, it would be you, my old padawan.”

“You’re the one who fled in the middle of the night with the boy,” Qui-Gon continued. “You’re the one who broke my heart by running off with no note. No explanation. Did you even realized how worried I was? That something happened to you and the boy? I spent that whole week searching nonstop. I barely slept and hardly ate while I looked for you. And then, I find out that you weren’t kidnapped, but rather you chose to leave. You took off with the one boy we needed to win this upcoming war.”

“So, if anyone here caused pain, you would only have to look at yourself,” Qui-Gon finished, aggravated.

Obi-Wan desperately wanted to scream. To throw himself at his old master and knock some of reason in the man’s head. How could Qui-Gon not see what he’s become? That he’s a dark, twisted version of the man Obi-Wan once cared for like a son to father. Now, Obi-Wan only saw a dangerous, cruel man. Someone willing to use brutal force and manipulations to get what he wanted. In fact, Obi-Wan was certain that this day would end in his death. 

The stomps of the guards distracted them and they turned to see the three guards empty handed. Anakin wasn’t with them.

Obi-Wan was relieved. Qui-Gon was furious.

“Where’s the boy?”

“Could not locate the boy,” the guard answered. “We searched. Found nothing.”

“Then expand your radius. He could not have gone far.”

The guards hesitated for a moment. Qui-Gon frowned. “What is it?”

“We do not know what the boy looks like,” answered one of the guards.

Obi-Wan saw a blood vessel bulge out from Qui-Gon’s neck. “He’s a boy! Go and bring back every boy you find!”

Obi-Wan watched the guards salute and then scrammed out of the junkyard ship for dear life. If Anakin did as instructed, the guards would never find him. Any time they landed on a new planet, they learned the routes needed to make quick escapes. So, Obi-Wan was quite confident that the guards were too late to capture Anakin.

Qui-Gon let out a loud huff, his knuckles protruding as he clenched his hands into tight fists. “It’s hard to find good help nowadays,” the Sith Lord muttered and he turned back to Obi-Wan. “Don’t be smug, Obi-Wan. I’ll find the boy soon enough.”

It irked Obi-Wan how Qui-Gon called Anakin ‘boy’ as if he was nothing but property. “Anakin.”

“What?”

“His name is Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated, fervently with his chin up in defiance. “Not 'boy’!”

Qui-Gon said nothing. He studied Obi-Wan with a sudden, peculiar interest. As if what Obi-Wan just proclaimed he knew the secret of immortality. He stared at Obi-Wan like that for a few more seconds before he waved his hand and the invisible binds that held Obi-Wan were cut. Obi-Wan tipped, but he struck out his hand to the wall and kept himself from falling over. But, his freedom was short-lived. Qui-Gon snatched his arm and dragged him back to the front entrance of the junkyard.

Obi-Wan fought back. He dragged his legs, digging his heels into the ground to slow the process. When that didn’t work, he grabbed anything to hold but Qui-Gon would simply wave a finger and Obi-Wan found himself continuing on the path Qui-Gon led him. 

“Stop fighting Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon warned. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will incapacitate you if necessary.”

“Don’t pretend that you’re granting me mercy,” Obi-Wan retorted. “I’m not that naive padawan anymore.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Maybe not, but you still are in many other ways.”

When they got out of the junkyard shop, Obi-Wan recognized that the streets were now bare. He imagined Qui-Gon had something to do with the emptiness around them. There was a small ship not too far from the junkyard. It was parked at the end of the street and it appeared that was their main destination.

His body shivered at the chilliness that engulfed him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe and secure,” Qui-Gon responded.

Obi-Wan doubted the safe part. Secured? That he could believe. He knew that if Qui-Gon or Dooku ever caught him or Anakin, it would not be an easy escape. Not like last time when they believed Obi-Wan to be the simple, obedient padawan. Realizing his time was running out, Obi-Wan concentrated on the Force around him. He felt the Force bend to his will, gathering in strength until he knew he could knock Qui-Gon down with a shove. After that, it only mattered how quick Obi-Wan could dodge the bullets and escape into the dense forest.

Ready, Obi-Wan released his Force power straight into Qui-Gon’s back. He expected the man to fall. To at least stumble. But, he didn’t do either. In fact, the only sign that Obi-Wan inflicted the Force against Qui-Gon was a mild grunt. His former master turned, yellow bleeding into blue in his eyes, and threw out his free hand. Obi-Wan felt a coalesced matter collide into his stomach. He was thrown off his feet, high up in the air, before he crashed down in the dusty street and the air knocked out of his lungs. Obi-Wan coughed, trying to regain life in his body once more when a darkening shadow fell over him. 

“Did you honestly believe that your powers are strong enough to beat me, young one?” Qui-Gon questioned, his tone mocking. “You forget, Obi-Wan. You never finished your training. You are no match for me.”

Obi-Wan curled up into a sitting position, his stomach aching from the punch. “I had to try.”

Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan’s forearm again, pulling the young man to his feet. Obi-Wan noted that Qui-Gon was smiling. “It’s what I admired the most about you,” Qui-Gon said. “You were always persistent and resilient. Even when you never stood a chance.”

A back-handed compliment. Obi-Wan scoffed. “I don’t need your compliments.”

“You once did.”

Obi-Wan looked away. He never wanted this Qui-Gon’s praise. He wanted his master’s praise and compliments. He wanted to impress the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Not this corrupted version. 

Qui-Gon took his silence as the finality of the conversation. He led Obi-Wan back to the shuttle, not noticing that his grip was too tight that Obi-Wan was sure that there were bruises forming underneath those large hands. They got to the ramp of the shuttle where two other guards stood at attention with blasters drawn. They saluted Qui-Gon and eyed Obi-Wan with a questionable arched of their brows. Obi-Wan returned with a glare of his own. 

Qui-Gon cared little of their face-off. “Any news on Anakin?”

The guards stared, baffled. “Anakin, my Lord?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “The boy.”

The guards shook their heads. “Not yet,” the guard on the left answered. “They are still searching.”

“He’ll come to us soon enough,” Qui-Gon said, softly, and he glanced at Obi-Wan. “We have something he wants.”

Obi-Wan didn’t need clarification. He knew that he had turned from being a simple prisoner to bait. But, as long as Anakin did as instructed, Obi-Wan wasn’t bait. In either case, he was still a prisoner. Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan up the ramp into the shuttle where he pushed Obi-Wan into a cell. Obi-Wan stumbled into the middle and a blue Force shield shot up, boxing him in the tiny cell.

Obi-Wan circled his newfound cell, eyeing for any weak points. He didn’t find any. “Did you built this for me? I’m touched.”

Qui-Gon half-shrugged. “Just a precaution. Would hate to lose you again.”

“Oh Qui-Gon… you already did.”

Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan, wounded yet determined. His hand reached out, almost as if it was going to go straight through the Force field and touch Obi-Wan’s cheek. Instead, he stopped short. “I haven’t lost you yet, Obi-Wan. I can still save you.”

Obi-Wan could only gape at the man. Save him? Obi-Wan wasn’t the one lost. He stepped back, distancing himself from his former master. “Save me? I’m not the one who needs saving.”

“Yes you do,” Qui-Gon countered, a slight edge in his tone as he spoke. “The Jedi Order is lost. The Republic corrupt. You are fighting a lost cause, Obi-Wan. And I fear it will be the death of you.”

Horror tightened around his throat and squeezed his voice to a whisper. If anything was going to be the death of him, it would be Qui-Gon. “You cannot save me, Qui-Gon. All you can do is kill me.”

A smirk tugged in the corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth. “We shall find out soon enough,” he said. “If you excuse me, I’m going to expedite this search of our missing member.”

As Qui-Gon ducked to leave, Obi-Wan called out. “You won’t find him!" 

Qui-Gon stopped and looked over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. The Force field buzzed, drowning Obi-Wan’s heavy breathing. "Anakin’s long gone by now.”

“He won’t leave without you.”

“Yes he will. I told him to leave me.”

Qui-Gon leaned against the wall, arms folded. “And you believe he listened?”

“You don’t know Anakin like I do.”

Qui-Gon tilted his head in agreement. “Perhaps not as well, but I do know one thing,” he said, confident. “I know that the two of you are strongly connected. Your Force bonds are the strongest I have ever seen in my life. In fact, I noticed it the moment I handed Anakin to you all those years ago. The Force simply… sung the moment you cradled the boy in your arms.”

Obi-Wan remembered that day. Qui-Gon had passed three-year-old Anakin to him, ordering him to get back to the ship. Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but the hard look from Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan running to the ship with Anakin in his arms. Anakin held tight, his tiny hands gripping his tunics for dear life. They ran to the front of the ship. Obi-Wan had Anakin on his lap as he piloted the ship to the area his master and grandmaster were battling opponents. When he rescued the duo and Qui-Gon wanted to hold Anakin, Obi-Wan went to pass the child off. However, Anakin refused. He started screaming and crying, arms stretched out to Obi-Wan as he dangled in Qui-Gon's arms. Qui-Gon returned Anakin to Obi-Wan and the boy went silent and snuggled close to Obi-Wan’s chest, and Obi-Wan felt lighter and brighter. He looked down at the toddler and for a moment, he thought he heard a song through the Force. 

Yes. He remembered that day all too well. It was the day Qui-Gon and Dooku declared him to be the prophesied Chosen One and began to make plans for him to become a weapon. And it was the following night that Obi-Wan decided to make a run with Anakin in his arms. As they made their escape, the Force still sung. But it was louder. Much louder.

“You cannot even deny it,” Qui-Gon’s voice pulled Obi-Wan out of his memory. He saw that smug grin that spread across Qui-Gon’s face. “Then you do know that he’ll come for you. And when he does, we can be done with all this madness and get back to our duties.”

Qui-Gon turned his back to Obi-Wan and departed, leaving Obi-Wan to sit alone in his cell with silence as his only company. He dropped his head in his hands, distraught and desperate. He reached for the Force again, begging Anakin to forget him. But every time he tried to reach Anakin, he hit a wall. Like his powers were blocked. Obi-Wan imagined the Force field was blocking him. 

Great. Obi-Wan sat down in the middle of the cell, contemplating on his next move. He would need to find another way to escape Qui-Gon. If he was correct in his thinking, Qui-Gon was going to take him to Serenno, Dooku’s home planet. It was the only place Obi-Wan imagined they could keep him under control and yet a secret from the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan’s been to Serenno more times than he wished. He remembered the extravagance of Dooku’s wealth and found it ridiculous on how much lavish materials Dooku surrounded himself in. However, Obi-Wan doubted that he would be treated to such hospitality. He’ll be lucky to even get a metal slab as a bed wherever he was going to be imprisoned. 

Obi-Wan was too lost in thought and blinded in his connection to the Force, that he didn’t noticed that the ship sputtered in movement. He only became distracted when the ship jolted, throwing Obi-Wan into the Force field that sent tiny electrical zaps into him. The ship jolted again and Obi-Wan tumbled to the other end of his cell. 

What the bloody hell was going on? 

Obi-Wan craned his neck the best he could to get a good look. He couldn’t see anything nor did he hear anything but the sounds of engines running. He wondered if that meant Qui-Gon captured Anakin and ordered the ship to drop Obi-Wan off at the pre-destination spot. The ship jerked and swung. Obi-Wan flew backwards, ramming his back into the Force shield again and getting electrocuted. 

This was bloody ridiculous! Who was piloting this ship?

“Can you ease up?” Obi-Wan yelled as he smoothed out his back from twitching. “Not everyone has seat belts!”

“Sorry Obi-Wan!” came a voice from the cockpit. “Still getting use to these thrusters.”

Obi-Wan’s heart plummeted and soared at the same time. “A-Anakin?”

“Yep… just hold on to something,” Anakin’s voice trailed through the ship. “This might be bumpy.”

“What do you mean by bumpy—”

The ship spun and Obi-Wan found himself flying again. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening. All he knew was that he kept being tossed into the Force shield like a plaything, getting electrocuted left and right. Obi-Wan steeled himself the best he could, but every jolt, twist and spin sent him colliding into the Force field. He didn’t know how long he was tortured, but when the ship came to a steady ease, Obi-Wan picked himself off the floor.

He winced at the faint reminder of the electrocution, some of his muscles still spasming. When he heard light steps coming down the hall, he looked up in time to see a stupid, silly grin on Anakin’s face. “Told you I was an excellent pilot.”

Obi-Wan, his back muscles still twitching from being electrocuted three times begged the differ. “Mind getting me out of this?”

“Oh yeah,” Anakin ran back. A few minutes later, the Force field collapsed and Obi-Wan was a free man again. 

He stepped out, hands rubbing his calf muscles. He limped his way to Anakin, who was back in the cockpit. Obi-Wan looked out through the viewport and saw stars. The vast space awaited them. 

He took a seat, tired and sore from his “ride”. Anakin glanced at him. “Are you okay, Obi-Wan? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Only emotionally, Obi-Wan thought. “No, I’m quite all right. Just give me an hour and I’ll be good as new,” he said. He looked back down their small shuttle ship. It was only the two of them. “I must ask, Anakin,” he began and Anakin, still piloting the shuttle through space turned to look at him, “why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked, surprised. “I’m rescuing you.”

“But that wasn’t the plan! I told you to run.”

“I did.”

“And to leave me behind,” Obi-Wan added. “What’s the point in creating those escape routes if you’re not going to use them?”

“They had you!”

“And they could have gotten you too!”

Anakin huffed and turned back to the viewport. Obi-Wan sighed, feeling the Force around them blackening in Anakin’s obvious anger. “Look—Anakin, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized. “But, there’s a reason I told you to run. These are dangerous people. If they captured you, they would only hurt you.”

“Like they would have done to you?” Anakin said, snarky. 

Obi-Wan dropped his head. “It’s not the same. You’re too important. I can’t… I don’t want them to hurt you, Anakin.”

“And I didn’t want them to hurt you!” Anakin argued, his voice getting a little squeakier in his emotional state. “Why can’t you just be happy that we escaped?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason they capture you!” Obi-Wan snapped, surprised by the anger in his tone when he spoke. Even Anakin jumped a little in his seat. Obi-Wan reeled himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just… I can’t live with myself if they got you through me. I just can’t, Anakin. Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to get hurt. Not through me.”

Anakin said nothing for a bit and Obi-Wan wondered if the boy understood or not. But, then Anakin slackened in his grip on the controls. “I-I understand, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to help you,” he said. “You taught me better than that. I wasn’t going to let them take you without a fight.”

“Anakin—”

“Obi-Wan, you would have done the same for me if the situation was the other way around,” Anakin pointed out. “Unless you weren’t planning to do the same thing if the situation was reverse, then don’t criticize me.”

Obi-Wan slouched in his seat. All the tension ran out and Obi-Wan could only think about Anakin sense of duty. Perhaps Qui-Gon was right after all. Anakin would never leave him behind because… because Obi-Wan would never leave him behind. What a terrible and ironic twist of fate. He had raised a good person to the point of abandonment recklessness.  
“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized again. “You’re right. It’s unfair of me to criticize you when I would have done the same.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said, sitting up properly in his seat. “But, hey, I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

“No worries,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re both safe now.”

“And we have a new ship,” Anakin said, admiring all the gadgets that littered the control panel. 

“Speaking of which,” Obi-Wan started, his curiosity growing. “How did you sneak on board without anyone noticing?”

A sneaky, triumphant smirk broke Anakin’s face. “Oh that? Well, you know how you told me to run?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when I ran, I saw the ship parked at the end of the street. There weren’t many guards. Just two,” Anakin said. “And, I realized that the ship would be the best hiding spot because they wouldn’t expect me to run right into the gundark’s nest.”

That’s true, Obi-Wan thought. Qui-Gon certainly wouldn’t have thought Anakin would be stowing away on his ship.

“I also figured that the bad guys would lock you up in the ship too, so I thought that this would be a great escape vehicle,” Anakin continued. “I would hide on the ship, wait until everyone left to go find me and then pilot the two of us out of their grasps.” Anakin was very pleased with his plan. “So, I snuck on board when the guards weren’t looking and hid in one of the compartments.”

“Clever,” Obi-Wan said, “but dangerous. Too many variables that could have gone wrong and we could have both ended up as prisoners.”

“Well, as you say Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, sounding cheeky. “Keep your mind in the here and now. We got out. We escaped. We’re free.”

Anakin was right. They were free. They had barely escaped with their lives. Obi-Wan pictured Qui-Gon, angry at watching the ship holding his prized possessions be lost to him once more. He probably killed the two guards stationed at the ramps. He would have found their lack of performance disappointing. Qui-Gon was so close in capturing them. He already had Obi-Wan locked away and, well, he technically also had Anakin too, but the boy hid well. And now, they were galvanizing back into space, searching for a new place to call home.

That reminded Obi-Wan. “Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you remain undetected?” Obi-Wan asked. “I tried reaching you through the Force, but I couldn’t locate you.”

Anakin raised his brow. “Oh… that? I did as you told me to in those situations. I threw up my shields and held them up until I knew the coast was clear.”  
So, it wasn’t the Force field that cut Obi-Wan off from Anakin. It was Anakin’s own powers. His own Force shield. Obi-Wan smiled, grateful at Anakin’s strong gift. It had kept him safe from Qui-Gon.

“Did I do something wrong?” Anakin asked, not liking the silence.

“No… no, not at all. You did well,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s just explained why I couldn’t reach you in the Force earlier.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Obi-Wan said. “I would prefer you to be safe. I’m happy to know that your shields are holding up.”

Anakin’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks,” he reached over to the control panels and pulled up a star system map. “All right, it’s my turn to pick a planet to crash.”

“Land, Anakin,” Obi-Wan automatically corrected. He hated the word 'crash’. It frightened him of the possibility that Anakin would crash-land a ship.

“You know what I mean,” Anakin said, examining the map. He glanced about, studying each planet before he finally found one. “Got it! How about this one, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked up to the screen, reading the information. “Naboo?” he murmured. “That’s Republic airspace. That might be too close for comfort.”

“But it has lots of small villages up around the mountain ranges and country-sides. As long as we avoid the cities, we should be fine,” Anakin said. “Besides, I’m tired of living in backwater worlds. Can’t we stay somewhere nice?”

“Anakin it’s too dangerous.”

“They might not expect us to be there,” Anakin argued. “They’ll think we skipped off to another outer rim planet. Not a Republic planet. We’ll have some safety in that.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his jaw in thought. It was dangerous to live in a Republic planet, but Anakin did make an excellent point. Qui-Gon and Dooku wouldn’t expect them to be residing in Republic airspace. Plus, Naboo was a peaceful planet. It would have no need to call for Jedi assistance. It was a relatively safe planet compared to others.

After investigating it further and listening to Anakin’s pleas, Obi-Wan obliged. “Fine. We can stay in Naboo. I don’t imagine too much trouble, but who knows,” he said. “We do tend to gravitate to trouble.”

Anakin set the coordinates to Naboo. “You gravitate toward trouble, Obi-Wan,” he corrected. “I’m the one that needs to rescue you.”

“You forget Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I used to do the rescuing when you were younger.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan said, rising up from his seat. “And I also say get up. I’m piloting.”

Anakin whined. “Why can’t I pilot? I just showed you that I could! I evaded all those blaster fires.”

“I know, but rules are rules,” Obi-Wan said, scooping Anakin from his seat by his armpits. “Ten year olds aren’t allowed to pilot… unless under dire circumstances.”

Anakin resented having his captain seat taken from him, but Obi-Wan did allow him to handle the coordinates and manage the control panel, giving him some sense of piloting without actually being behind the wheel. Once ready, Obi-Wan got the ship into position for hyperspeed.

“Whenever you’re ready, Anakin.”

Anakin’s short arms reached for the handle. “Naboo, here we come!”

And, Anakin pulled the handle down and the stars zoomed up and passed them. They were engulfed by streaks of blue and white. The ship lunged and then it shot off, heading straight for Naboo.

Their new home.


	3. Whatever Happens in Naboo

Dooku arrived early. A man of his prestige never came late nor ruffled. He stepped off the ramp looking poised and controlled as ever, striding across the hanger. His dark cape billowed behind him, the guards saluting as he passed. He walked inside the compound and went directly to his old padawan. 

Qui-Gon sat at a large table, gazing out the window in deep contemplation. Dooku withheld his instinct to sigh at the sight. His old padawan was in a somber mood. Dooku was well aware of Qui-Gon’s encounter with his former wards and of their escape as well. A big blow to the disheveled man in front of him.

“Pinning won’t bring them here,” Dooku said, making his formal announcement of his arrival to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon merely turned his head in acknowledgement. “I’m not pinning,” he said. “I’m assessing what went wrong.”

“What went wrong is that you had incompetent men and you grossly underestimated them,” Dooku said, taking the seat next to Qui-Gon. “Granted—you were right about the boy—”

“Anakin.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A faint smile hid amongst Qui-Gon’s beard. “His name. Obi-Wan told me the boy’s name is Anakin.”

Dooku made a dismissive hand gesture. “It is all the same,” he said. “The boy did come back for your old padawan. That will be useful.”

Qui-Gon frowned, understanding the hidden meaning behind the statement. “My padawan is not to be harmed.”

“Obi-Wan picked his side,” Dooku reminded him. “He made his choice.”

“He’s not to be harmed.”

Dooku now sighed exasperatedly. “Qui-Gon. I know this is hard for you. It is for me too. He’s my grandpadawan after all. I was fond of him.”

That was the truth. He was fond of the young padawan. On Obi-Wan’s last life day they spent together, Dooku gifted him the latest model of a speeder bike. He remembered how rounded Obi-Wan’s eyes got upon seeing the speeder. But that was many years ago and he betrayed Dooku by using that same speeder bike to run away with the boy. 

Dooku straightened back his shoulders, removing all hints of emotion. “But, these past years have proven that he has no interest in joining us,” he said to his disheartened, yet determined padawan. “He’ll only be a hindrance.”

“He will not be harmed.”

“Really Qui-Gon—”

“Excuse me, Master,” Qui-Gon cut off Dooku and the Master glowered coldly at his old padawan for interrupting him. But Qui-Gon continued speaking, “Obi-Wan is one of us. He’s just a boy.”

“Obi-Wan is no longer a boy, Qui-Gon. He’s twenty-five and powerful enough to evade capture after all these years.”

“He’s still one of us, Master,” Qui-Gon proclaimed. “All those years ago, he was lost and confused. He did what he believed had to do. If we only paid attention…”

Dooku gravely shook his head. “If we had paid attention, we would have seen his betrayal coming parsecs away—”

“ _If we had paid attention_ ,” Qui-Gon said louder and with more emphasis, taking command of the conversation again, “then I would have devoted more time in instructing Obi-Wan. Opening his mind and explaining the truths that we both know. Instead, I left him on his own.”

Dooku tapped his fingers against his chair’s arm. “He’s not your fault, Qui-Gon.”

“Of course he is,” Qui-Gon countered, scornful of himself. “He was my responsibility. I failed him. I lost him… and Anakin.”

Dooku realized there was no way to reason with his old padawan. Qui-Gon’s heart was sometimes too big and Dooku often worried it may interfere with their plans. Yet, Dooku understood Qui-Gon’s heartbreak. A lost padawan is not something one could easily get over. Even Dooku was saddened when he learned of Obi-Wan’s betrayal. He often pictured the three of them leading the charge, but it changed the minute Obi-Wan ran away. Plans were disabled or postponed. There was so much cleaning up to do after the mess Obi-Wan left behind that Dooku’s fondness for the boy deteriorated quicker than Qui-Gon’s.

Yet, Dooku allowed Qui-Gon to pursue the wayward padawan. He had hope the mission would take less than a year, but Obi-Wan proved to be an apt fighter. Obi-Wan and the boy narrowly missed them every single time. And when Qui-Gon finally had them in his grasps, they miraculously slipped away. It’s gotten to the point Qui-Gon should cut ties with the padawan and only focus on the boy. 

Though Dooku could not fault Qui-Gon on his desperate need to have both of them. If Qui-Gon was like Obi-Wan and ran away, Dooku wouldn’t know what to do. Luckily, Qui-Gon was more agreeable and understanding than Obi-Wan. 

“Well, if you insist,” Dooku finally decided to skip over their talk of lost padawans. No matter what he said, Qui-Gon would not listen. He wanted both Obi-Wan and the boy. Not just one or the other. “We’ll capture both, but I warn you Qui-Gon. If Obi-Wan won’t listen to reason then I expect him to be dealt with accordingly.”

Qui-Gon gave him his word. “Yes Master.”

Qui-Gon’s promise was all Dooku needed before he changed the subject. “I didn’t come here to simply discuss that disaster on Ithor. Our plans are slowly coming together. In a couple of months, the Trade Federation will make their move on Naboo.”

Qui-Gon’s brows lifted in surprise at the announcement. “That soon already?”

“Indeed,” Dooku said, greedily. “I foresee a great change in the coming years, my old padawan.”

Their future was finally in their reach and that rotten Republic will fall alongside the corrupted Jedi Order.

* * *

Naboo was a very pleasant planet. 

After selling the ship on one of the moons and gaining transport to Naboo’s surface, Obi-Wan and Anakin fled up to one of the mountain villages. Their new home was more spacious than the previous three homes they stayed and Anakin wondered at the view of the rolling hills and snowy mountain caps. Obi-Wan obtained a job as a mechanic, working on basic engines that weren’t too complicated that he would require Anakin’s assistance. Meanwhile, Anakin attended school. A requirement by law in Naboo. Obi-Wan didn’t mind. They falsified their documents so no one would recognize Anakin. Anyway, Anakin enjoyed school enough. He struggled on a few subjects due to their constant changing of environments, but Anakin was a quick study. Once he understood, he knew and remembered. Obi-Wan wasn’t concerned about Anakin’s school lessons. He was more concerned about Anakin’s loneliness. 

He was surrounded by children of his own age almost every day, yet Anakin chose to stay distant. When the other younglings asked for him to come and play, Anakin opted out, choosing to spend his free time with either machines or Obi-Wan. It worried Obi-Wan that Anakin might never develop the social skills needed to engage with society or other people in general. Obi-Wan grew up in a Temple full of like-minded younglings, befriending a few close ones like Garen and Bant. But Anakin… it seemed he only needed Obi-Wan’s company to be happy. 

And that greatly worried Obi-Wan. 

It was late one night. Obi-Wan was finishing up on some last repairs on a speeder while Anakin read over schoolbooks, trying to finish up on some lessons before the small break. As Obi-Wan dusted himself off and rinsed his hands cleaned, he called out to Anakin. “So… anyone doing anything fun over the break?”

Anakin merely shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“None of the younglings said anything?”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t listening.”

Obi-Wan drew out a long sigh. “Anakin—”

Anakin turned off the holobook. “Please, Obi-Wan. Not another lecture. Not tonight.”

“I’m afraid I have to,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m concerned.”

“About what? I’m doing fine in my studies. I’m all caught up… somewhat,” Anakin added as a second thought, glancing down at his mathematics lessons. 

“It’s not your studies I’m worried about,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m worried that you may be lonely.”

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Lonely? I’m not lonely. I have you.”

Obi-Wan put away his toolkit. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “I shouldn’t be your only friend. You should have others. Friends around your age.”

The Force surrounding them shuddered and Obi-Wan turned around to see Anakin’s face screwed up in fright. “A-Are you saying you don't—”

“No! No, no, no,” Obi-Wan assured immediately, crossing the shop and taking a knee in front of Anakin. “I’m not saying anything of that sort. I’ll always be your friend Anakin. I only bring it up because… I want you to have friends other than myself.”

“But I don’t need anyone else!”

“Yes you did. You just don’t realize it,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “It’s good to make friends. To have people who will care and love you.”

“That’s why I have you.”

Obi-Wan inwardly sighed. It was a much harder discussion than he previously thought. “Yes, but I think you need more than just me. You’ll get tired of me, especially when you are much older and you’ll want someone your own age to talk to.”

Anakin shook his head. “No! I’ll never get bored of you. I swear!”

“Don’t make such promises,” Obi-Wan gently chided. “My point is it would be good for you to hang out with people your own age. Be a kid, Anakin. By the Force, you deserve some normalcy.”

Anakin frowned and turned away from Obi-Wan, shoving his holobooks and lessons in his bag. Obi-Wan didn’t need the Force to sense Anakin’s anger. “Anakin, don’t be like that.”

Anakin snapped around. “Why do you keep trying to push me away from you? Huh? First it was me rescuing you and now it’s this. I don’t understand!”

Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand to stop him from running off. He held them tight, but not in a strong grip. Not the way Qui-Gon held onto him. “Calm down. Just calm down. I’m not pushing you away,” he whispered, smoothly. He noticed the tears welling in Anakin’s eyes. “Look—after what happened in Ithor, I realized that if anything was to happen to me, you would be alone.”

“And I don’t want to leave you alone, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued, bending his head down to keep looking Anakin in the eyes. “I want some comfort knowing that there will be others there for you.”

“B-But you’ll always be around, right?” Anakin sniffled. The tears have yet to fall, but the tide was rising.

It ached to know that may not always be true. “Not always,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “But I will do my very best to be with you. In the meanwhile, I think it’s a good thing for you to at least be acquainted with your fellow classmates. It’s good to make friends Anakin. Healthy even.”

Anakin rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his arms. “I… I don’t see the point though,” he said. “We’re going to leave anyway. Why make friends if I’m just going to go?”

“Because it’s good to connect with others,” Obi-Wan answered. “Even if it is only for a few moments, it’s good to have people who you can talk to and listen. Swap ideas. It’ll keep you aware of the galaxy around us. But, more importantly, it’ll be fun to have someone to talk who is not an old man.”

A little twist of a smile rose up from Anakin’s face. “You do know I really don’t think you’re an old man.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, affectionately. “But I often feel like one.” Obi-Wan looked at the time. “Come on, we better head home or it may be too late to practice.”

Anakin threw his bag over his shoulder and Obi-Wan locked up the shop. They strolled quietly down the paved road, politely greeting those who walked passed them. As they neared their front door, Anakin stopped and faced Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan? Do you have friends?”

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to sit Anakin down and tell him long tales of the days when he was a mere youngling, playing games with his good friends, Garen and Bant and Reeft. He wanted to tell Anakin how blessed he was to have them. He desperately wanted to tell Anakin all of that.

Unfortunately, he could not. He hadn’t communicated to them for a very long time. At one point, Garen and Bant and he were inseparable. Always had each other’s backs and were often seen in the together studying and practicing. Obi-Wan enjoyed his friends’ company, but it dwindled when he became a padawan. Then it became even less when Qui-Gon joined Dooku. Obi-Wan tried his best to stay in contact. Every time he returned to the Temple, he would immediately excuse himself to see his friends. And it was during one of these meet-ups that he confined in them his worries about his master. Qui-Gon effectively ended their meet-ups. He kept Obi-Wan busy and away from the Temple. He “accidentally” broke Obi-Wan’s comlink and; therefore, Obi-Wan could only use Qui-Gon’s to make calls. When missions were completed and they had breaks, they always went to Serenno and stayed at Dooku’s estate that the rest of the Temple didn’t know. They never returned to the Temple. And getting messages out of the palace was harder than building a droid from scrap metal. Soon, Obi-Wan lost touch with his long ago friends and all he had for company was Dooku and Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan pushed his hair back, eyes sliding over Anakin. “I did,” Obi-Wan replied quietly. “It was long ago, but I had friends.”

“What happened to them?”

“Nothing. It was me.”

That baffled Anakin. “What do you mean?”

“Remember what I told you about those bad people?” Obi-Wan asked and Anakin nodded. “Well, they kept me away from them. They didn’t want me to have friends except them.”

Anakin confusion melted into one of pity. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan assured the boy. Obi-Wan didn’t mean to upset or make Anakin feel guilty. It was how life went with him. “Let’s get inside and—”

“My classmates are going to Theed.”

Obi-Wan stopped, hand frozen on the door knob. “Beg pardon?”

Anakin shyly looked away. “Most of my classmates are going to Theed for the weekend. There’s a big festival there and the school set up a trip,” he paused, tipping his chin up so that he could look up at Obi-Wan. “You asked me what they were doing for the break. That’s what they’re doing.”

“Oh… okay,” Obi-Wan said and he unlocked the door. He allowed Anakin to step inside first and the lights flickered to life, revealing their cozy abode. “I see. How come I didn’t hear about the trip?”

Anakin dropped his bag in the hallway. “Because we can’t go,” he said. “Theed is a city. The  _capital_  of Naboo. You’d say it’s too dangerous.”

He was accurate about that. Going into Theed was indeed a dangerous adventure for the two of them. If anyone recognized them from the posters and alert the Jedi, then it would be another hectic day. But, with a festival, it would be pack and their faces would easily blend in with the crowd. And it would be good for Anakin to converse with his classmates outside of school. 

“Let’s go,” Obi-Wan decided, causing Anakin to do a double-look at him.

“Are you ill?” Anakin questioned, reaching up to Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan batted the boy’s hands aside. Anakin still looked unsure if Obi-Wan really meant what he said. Then he stated, “We can’t go to Theed.”

“Why not?”

“Because the bad people might find us.”

“It’s a festival, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “There’s going to be a lot of people there. Our faces will blend in with the crowds. Also, we’ll be with a part of the school. No one would think of us to mingle with a school.”

Anakin’s blue eyes brightened. A shiny sea of blue looking right at him in hope. “Do you mean it?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll contact your teacher tomorrow morning and rearrange my work schedule.”

Anakin let out a childish squeal. “Yippie!” Then he darted down the hallway and around the corner into the kitchen, leaving his belongings scattered in the hallway.

Obi-Wan frowned at the discarded items that cluttered the hallway. “ _Anakin_! Get back here and clean up your mess!”

* * *

“I’m Rosmé.”

Obi-Wan looked over to see one of the mothers standing next to him, hand stretched out to bridge their acquaintance. Obi-Wan gladly took hers and gave it a firm handshake. “Ben,” Obi-Wan easily lied. “Ani’s guardian.”

Rosmé’s brown hair rippled as she nodded in acknowledgement. “He’s an energetic young boy,” she complimented before she pointed to a group of younglings who were trying to catch the flying confetti. “My son is Errol.”

Obi-Wan had no idea which one was Errol. “I’ve only heard good things about him.”

Rosmé beamed. “You’re too kind,” she said. “You say your Ani’s guardian? Are you related or…”

“He’s my younger brother,” Obi-Wan answered. It was the lie they decided on upon arriving in Naboo. Anakin was Obi Wan’s younger brother. Parents died last year and they moved to escape those painful memories.

“You don’t look alike,” Rosmé commented, studying Obi-Wan’s face before flicking a glance to Anakin’s face. “Maybe the eyes…”

“He takes after our mother,” Obi-Wan replied, surprised by the nosiness of the woman. 

“Oh, yes,” Rosmé said, growing somewhat quiet. “I’m sorry to upset you. It’s just—we are all curious about the two of you. We often spoke about inviting you and young Anakin over for dinner. But, you two seemed so quiet and secluded.”

“We don’t mean to be,” Obi-Wan said, truthfully. “It’s just been a difficult time for us. We are trying to adjust.”

Rosmé smiled sweetly. “That’s good. We are quite happy that you and Anakin joined us on this trip. It’s not often the younglings get a chance to explore and go into cities. Especially Theed.”

Yes, Theed was quite an exotic city. It was picturesque. The dome buildings of architectural phenomenon, sat right on the cliffs overlooking multiple waterfalls. Anakin was wowed and excitedly counted every single waterfall. Like Anakin, Obi-Wan was amazed by the design of Theed. It gave an ancient city vibe, a renaissance image of poise, dignity and colorful. Everything was bright. Civilians wore vibrant colors, hairs done in extravagant up-dos and men laughed rambunctiously. It was quite the crowd and it was a gorgeous festival. Obi-Wan had to remind himself to keep check on Anakin, who kept darting off with the other younglings to different stalls. Obi-Wan told Anakin to keep his bond open at all times and if they were ever separated, to go to Guido’s Tower and wait.

Obi-Wan didn’t sense any danger, but he knew better than to let his guard down. Anakin even stayed alert, but was more relaxed than Obi-Wan. He seemed to be really enjoying the trip. He began having conversations with his classmates, telling them all about how he’s going to build a protocol droid from scratch. Obi-Wan smiled at seeing Anakin engage with the other younglings, happy at the prospect of Anakin gaining new friends. 

“Errol is most excited about seeing the young queen,” Rosmé kept speaking, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention back to her. “He’s very fascinated by our young queen. What does Ani think?”

Obi-Wan had no clue. They both knew her name was Padmé Amidala, but other than that, neither really discussed politics. They had no interest in getting involved in government duties. “He seems to like her enough,” Obi-Wan said. “Nothing to complain about.”

“Not yet anyway,” Rosmé added with a small chuckle. “She was inaugurated not too long ago. We’ll have to see if she’ll be a fine queen. I’m concern in her capability. The Trade Federation have been so greedy with our plasma.”

Obi-Wan heard whispers of the grievances of the Trade Federation. It was a common conversation in their village. Many families in their little village have miners in the plasma mine. Obi-Wan was aware of the situation and it did seem quite serious. But, he wasn’t too worried. The Republic would handle the tense situation if the Naboo and the Trade Federation could not come to terms. 

“Hey!”

Obi-Wan felt a jerk on his arm and saw Anakin standing next to him. “Can I have some money to buy a snack?”

“You had lunch half an hour ago.”

“But I’m hungry.”

Obi-Wan knew Anakin wasn’t actually hungry. He spied his young charge hungrily eyeing those delectable treats at the booth in the corner. Obi-Wan knew of Anakin’s tricks that he came prepared. He pulled out an apple from his bag and gave it to Anakin. “Here you go,” he said. “That should keep you full until dinner.”

Anakin scrunched up his face, squinting questionably and disappointingly at the apple. 

Then, in a surprise that Obi-Wan didn’t count, Rosmé handed Anakin a few coins. “There you go, Ani.”

Anakin didn’t know what to do at first. No one has ever challenged Obi-Wan on his parenting skills with Anakin. But, before Obi-Wan could refuse the money, Anakin accepted it. “Thank you!” He returned the apple to Obi-Wan and ran to the corner booth to get his treat.

Obi-Wan shoved the apple back in his bag. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It was unfair the other children got sweets and Ani can’t,” Rosmé said to defend her actions. “Besides, it’s nothing really. Just a few coins.”

“Yes, but—”

“Just say thank you Ben.”

Obi-Wan realized he wasn’t going to win and surrendered. “Thank you,” he said. “It was kind of you.”

Rosmé’s smile widened. “No problem. And, honestly, you and Ani should come over for dinner. I know a friend you might get along with.”

By friend, Obi-Wan knew she meant a girl. He wasn’t quite sure what she took a sudden interest in his and Anakin’s well-being and it made him feel uncomfortable. The last time anyone took an interest in either of them was… well, he didn’t want to think about those days. “We’ll be more than happy to attend dinners,” he said as that was what the social norms called for. But he definitely was not going to look forward to it.

“Good! Next week then.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in agreement. “Next week then.”

Rosmé was quite pleased with herself. Her pride shone in the Force and Obi-Wan wanted to side-step and move to another area to avoid more discussion on his and Anakin’s personal and private life.

She turned her head to the massive palace, raising a hand over her eyes. “Where’s our Queen? She should be coming out any moment.”

It was that exact moment. Right when Rosmé finished speaking that Obi-Wan felt a deep surge of darkness clouding the Force. A tremor rippled the gentle waves of the Force. A warning. Something bad was about to happen. Obi-Wan scanned the area, head snapping from one direction to the next. Anakin was still at the sweet shop booth, talking to the owner and picking out the right treat. He wasn’t in any danger. Not that Obi-Wan could see or sense. But, something was wrong. Very wrong. 

“What is it?”

Obi-Wan looked back to Rosmé. She looked concerned for him. “You look scared.”

“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said, trying to form his face into a neutral expression.

“That doesn’t look like nothing. You seem terrified.”

Did the woman ever stay quiet for a moment? “I just got an odd feeling, that’s all.”

“Of what?”

Here. Obi-Wan thought. He felt something bad was going to happen right here. Dead center in the middle of Theed.

Rosmé still looked at him strangely, unsure of his words. “You shouldn’t worry. Ani is still right over there. And the festival is going on and the skies are—”

Her voice was cut off by an alarming sonic boom. The rambunctious festival suddenly grew still and quiet for a brief second. Then, chaos broke loose. Rosmé vanished from Obi-Wan’s side as the crowd surged in different directions. Scream after scream pierced Obi-Wan’s ears. Obi-Wan whipped around, hand resting on his hidden lightsaber as he took in the scene behind him. 

There are another sonic boom and a nearby building’s roof was shot up, the pieces crumbling down. Obi-Wan looked past the panic crowd and saw a massive droid army marching into the street, firing into the crowd. 

Obi-Wan’s heart clenched at the sight. The last time he saw battle droids…

Obi-Wan spun around and sprinted to the last place he saw Anakin. 

The booths were all upturned and the sweets that Anakin debated upon buying littered the plaza. Anakin was nowhere to be found. “ANAKIN!” Obi-Wan cried out, his heart drumming erratically that he didn’t think the rest of his body could handle it. He sprinted around terrified civilians, ducking from blaster fire and checking every young boy for any sign of Anakin. 

Then he remembered.

Guido’s Tower. 

Obi-Wan took off, arms pumping as he ran around debris and panicked people. Blasters shots narrowly missed him. He pulled out his lightsaber, the metal picking his palm as he gripped it. One shot came near him and he deflected it with a quick reflect of blue sword. He heard the excitement chatter of the droids and knew he suddenly became a main target. He ran across two droids and sliced them in half as he proceeded his race to the tower. He silently hoped Anakin went directly there and that he wasn’t captured or worse, dead. 

He constantly checked his bond with Anakin, sensing Anakin was alive, but panicked like the rest of the people. He was running and Obi-Wan sensed that Anakin was heading to the correct destination.

There was more flying debris as bombs collided into the historic buildings of Theed, topping great masterpieces and turning them into rubble. Civilians rushed to shelters as Obi-Wan continued his long sprint to the tower. Many people called out to him, pleading with him to come with them for safety, but Obi-Wan ignored them. Anakin was out there and he needed him. 

The Guido’s Tower came into view and Obi-Wan deflected a few more blaster shots with his lightsaber. He jumped over a toppled statue and nearly fell into the bushes upon landing. But, he kept his balance and finished his run to the tower. He didn’t see Anakin. 

He ran in a circle, but Anakin was not in sight. 

Ice pierced his body, stabbing right through his center. This could not be happening. Anakin should have been here. He felt him through the Force. Anakin should have been right here!

“Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan jolted at hearing his name and twisted his legs to turn when he spotted Anakin running up to him. Obi-Wan opened his arms wide open and caught Anakin in his arms. “You’re okay,” he said mostly to himself in confirmation that Anakin was indeed alive.

"Sorry! I tried to get here as soon as I could but—”

“No worries,” Obi-Wan said quickly and he released Anakin from his embrace. They had no time to talk. “We have to get out of the city.”

“We can’t!”

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise by Anakin’s insistence. “What?”

“I heard the droids saying about the queen.”

“Anakin—”

“No! Obi-Wan!” Anakin said, urgently. His little fists grabbed Obi-Wan’s tunics. “They’re going to kill her!”

Obi-Wan, his breathing ragged from his sprint, pulled Anakin into the safety of a shelter. “Anakin, you must listen carefully,” he said. “These droids work for the same people we’ve been running from. If they capture us—”

“But we have to help them,” Anakin claimed, pleading. “They’re going to kill her!”

Obi-Wan found himself in a dilemma. If they exposed their whereabouts, how much good could they do if Qui-Gon or Dooku captured them and imprison them in the depths of Serreno? Yet, Obi-Wan’s Jedi past made it difficult for him to not come to the aid of those in need. And the city of Theed needed help. If Anakin was correct in what he overheard, then the queen was in terrible danger. 

The Force stroked his mind and Obi-Wan understood. He knew what he needed to do. “All right,” he said with finality. “Let’s go save the Queen.”


	4. The Escape from Paradise to Doom

They waited on top of the walkway that led away from the palace. The Force was strained, but Obi-Wan expected it to be. With all the fear and death, it was incredible hard to even concentrate with the Force blaring in his head. But, he did and now he and Anakin sat on top, waiting for the small armed escort coming from the palace came to them.

“Will this work?” Anakin asked, uncertain as he peaked around the pillar.

Obi-Wan didn’t know. “We must trust the Force to guide us.”

As the escort drew closer, Obi-Wan could make out the fashionable and quite extravagant attire on a few individuals. Obi-Wan must admit, the Naboo dressed very odd and extreme. Surrounding the colorful array was dull painted droids. The tan and skinny machines marched with blasters ready to fire on anyone who came near. Obi-Wan pushed the Force for any sense and he felt the same dread A must have felt. They were going to execute the queen. 

Obi-Wan signaled to Anakin. “Ready in three.”

Obi-Wan counted through their bond and right when the escort got to the exact point necessary, Obi-Wan and Anakin leaped from their hiding spot. Obi-Wan unleashed his lightsaber and swung while Anakin, who obtained a stolen blaster from one of the destroyed droids, fired of shots. The droids stood no chance. In seconds, Obi-Wan and Anakin eliminated the droids and freed the hostages.

A tall, dark man, wearing a captain’s hat stood protectively in front of the more elaborate dressed woman. The young woman’s face was painted white and lips dyed red. She must be the Queen. Except Obi-Wan didn’t feel like she was the actual Queen. There was something… the Force felt funny around another individual rather than the Queen.

Obi-Wan quickly ignored the oddity when the captain came up to him. “Jedi! You heard our distress call? That quickly?”

Obi-Wan extinguished his blade. He had no intention in correcting the man. “We need to get you off planet, Your Highness” he addressed the Queen. “I fear that this invasion is to end with your death.”

“They won’t kill her,” said an elderly man with pointy white beard. “They need her to sign a treaty first to make this all legal.”

“Legal?” Anakin cut in, disgusted. “There’s nothing legal about murder!”

Obi-Wan rested his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. The boy bristled, but he fell silent. “They’ll kill her the minute she signs,” Obi-Wan said to the captain, but his eyes were on the Queen. “There’s something else happening here, Your Highness.”

A siren rang overhead, blaring a warning to all. The captain bent down and stole one of the droid’s blasters, eyes scanning around for any enemies. Time was running out for them. “In either case, it’s too dangerous for the Queen to stay in Naboo,” Obi-Wan said.

“I belong with my people,” the Queen said, stoically and unafraid. Obi-Wan did admire her stature, but not her idealism. 

“My instincts tell me that you will be destroyed if you stay.”

His comment frightened the elder man, causing him to babble in a state of panic. “Your Highness! Perhaps we should heed his warning…”

The Queen held up her hand, quietening the man. Her eyes turned away from the gentleman and looked to the tight huddled of similarly dressed handmaidens. They were dressed in a fiery robe, beginning with yellow on the bottom and rising to red at their heads. Their faces were covered. Obi-Wan could barely make any of them out and he expected it was meant that way.

The Queen looked at each face. “Either choice is a great risk,” she said to her confidants. “For us all.”

The handmaidens gathered closer together and it amused and bewildered Obi-Wan by their actions. The Queen was taking preferences from her dress helpers rather than the captain or himself.

Suddenly, the young handmaiden on the Queen’s left replied, firmly. “We are brave, Your Highness." 

The Queen turned back to Obi-Wan. "There’s a hanger not too far from here.”

“I’ll lead the way,” the captain offered and the small group maneuvered their way through the battleground. 

Obi-Wan instructed Anakin to be alert and keen. They checked corners and high towers for any reflections of the droids blasters or metal bodies. They shot a few and sliced more down, but in a much quicker amount of time than Obi-Wan expected, they arrived at the small hanger. 

“Whoa!” Anakin gasped, eyes right on the chromium covered vessel. It was a sleek and high-end J-Type ship. A ship for royalty most certainly. Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. “How fast do you think it can go?”

“It doesn’t matter how fast it can go. We don’t have a pilot. None of them are here,” the captain pointed around the empty hanger.

The hanger was entirely empty except for a small fleet of ships. It didn’t look too good for them. Fortunately, they had a pilot among them. “That’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, “We have a pilot.”

The Naboo looked strangely at Obi-Wan, who only smiled down at clueless Anakin, who was too engrossed by the ships before him. “Let’s board and get out of here before they take control of the gunners.”

The party boarded the ship and Obi-Wan and Anakin headed to the cockpit with the captain trailing after them. “Even if you can pilot this ship, there’s no way to pass the blockade.”

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow at the captain. “Blockade?”

The captain’s dark face hardened. “Yes, don’t you know?”

Of course he didn’t know! But, nonetheless, they couldn’t stay here. If Obi-Wan was right in his assumption that Dooku and Qui-Gon were involved in this invasion, then attempting to run through the blockade was a better choice. “Doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan dismissed. “It’s our only option.”

“If you get us blown up—”

“It’s not me that’s piloting,” Obi-Wan said taking the co-pilot seat as Anakin hesitantly looked to Obi-Wan for confirmation.

Obi-Wan gave him the go-ahead. “I would consider this dire circumstances.”

Then Anakin’s face split into smile so big that his eyes barely showed. He jumped into the pilot’s chair and strapped himself into the pilot seat.

The captain looked appalled. “You’re letting a boy pilot this ship?!”

“He’s the best pilot we have.”

“But the Queen!”

“Doesn’t have to know,” Obi-Wan finished the argument.

Anakin was straining over the control panels, familiarizing himself on each button and switch. He pushed down a couple of buttons and flipped the switch closest to him. The engines groaned before the sound of rushing air caused the ship to shudder. A got the engine ready, the whirring sounds of wind notified that they were preparing to depart. Anakin gripped the steers. “Hang on tight!”

They shot out of the hanger at an incredibly speed. Obi-Wan sensed the ion cannons aiming for them, but Anakin maneuvered the ship with relative ease out of the cannon’s fire. The ship rocked against the near misses, but Anakin smoothly got it under control. In minutes, the city of Theed was nothing by a speck below as they entered the vast sea of space. And a horde of battleship stations.

The captain wasn’t kidding about the blockade. It was massive! Station after station ringed around the planet. It would be impossible for anyone to get out. Obi-Wan looked over to Anakin. He was guiding the ship with scrutinizing concentration. He reached over and slapped on a yellow button. “Shield’s up!” Anakin called, but he looked to Obi-Wan and said more quietly. “Brace yourself.”

The battle stations fired. Anakin did his best to keep the ship intact, but the shields on the Nubian vessel was not as strong as a war ship. The captain, holding on to dear life, looked angrier by the minute. “We should abort!” he yelled over the sounds of cannons hitting the ship. “They’re going to kill us.”

The captain was correct in that one aspect. If they kept up with their plan, the ship would eventually be blown into bits. The ship’s shields were already faltering and soon they would all be just bits of stardust. Obi-Wan tried to think back about his studies on the Trade Federation and weaponry. He remembered some of his lessons, trying to recall the exact notes. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, gaining Anakin’s attention for a brief moment before he had to swerve to miss another blow. “The Trade Federation uses pulser tracking. Spin the ship and that will ease up on the hits.”

The suggestion only made Anakin’s grin wider. “I think I can do a few tricks.”

Anakin pulled a few levers and soon, the ship was spinning and Obi-Wan immediately regretted the suggestion. His stomach jostled and rumbled, making him feel ill. They accelerated forward, going straight in a line to freedom, when a cannon hammered into them. The ship spun out of control and Anakin was gripping the steers as best he could, trying to reign control again. A blaring of warnings lit up the cockpit and Obi-Wan’s heart sank upon learning its message.

“The deflectors are down,” Obi-Wan reported. “If we get one more big hit, we’re done.”

That got the captain in a tight knot. “You Jedi are going to get us all killed!”

Anakin growled at the captain’s accusation. “No we aren’t,” he shouted back and he pressed another button. “Sending a team of droids right now to fix it.”

One of the screens on the control panel turned on and Obi-Wan watched as R2 units rolled out on top of the Queen’s vessel and working on the wound. One R2 unit blasted into smithereens from a direct hit. The other lost its hold and flew out into space. A few more got hit and soon, only a little blue R2 droid remained. 

Anakin kept the ship leveled, doing his part to not swing drastically so that the droid wouldn’t fly off. “Come on R2,” Anakin muttered. 

Obi-Wan was thinking of the same thing. They were so close now. If the droid fixed the deflector shield, then Anakin could jam the thrusters into full throttle and be gone from the blockade. He watched as the blue droid worked furiously, connecting wires amongst the fire and smoke. 

A loud chirping sound brought Anakin and Obi-Wan to look at the panel. Even the captain looked over their shoulder. “I don’t believe it!” the captain exclaimed. “That little droid did it!”

And indeed the blue R2 unit did. He brought the shields up. The droid returned to the ship, giving Anakin the go ahead. Anakin flipped up the switches and pulled the lever down. “Here we go!”

The ship rocketed away, leaving the blockade and Naboo behind in its dust. Obi-Wan gave a big sigh of relief, slouching in his seat. Anakin too felt a great burden fall off his shoulders as he piloted the battered ship into space. Proud of the boy’s accomplishments, Obi-Wan patted him on the back. “You did well, Anakin,” he said, smiling.

Anakin blushed, before that trademark smirk of his appeared. “I always told you I’m a good pilot.”

The captain behind them shook his head. “That was insane! You nearly got us killed!”

Obi-Wan looked back at the angry man. “Nearly is a far better option than the other one,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “Besides, no one said it was going to be easy.”

The captain paused and gave a disgruntled nod of gratitude. “My apologies. You have mine and the Queen’s thanks,” he said. “I’m afraid we didn’t make proper introductions. I’m Captain Panaka. Head security officer of the Queen’s Guard.”

The captain struck out his hand. Obi-Wan politely accepted it. “Ben.”

“Thank you, Master Ben,” Captain Panaka said and then he turned to Anakin. “Your Master is correct. You did a good job piloting.”

Anakin scrunched up his face at the captain’s words. “Obi-Wan’s not my master!” Anakin cried. “I’m not a slave!”

Anakin’s outburst surprised both Obi-Wan and Captain Panaka. For Captain Panaka, he was taken aback by Anakin’s furor on a title that he assumed all Jedi younglings respected of their elders. For Obi-Wan, he was alarmed by Anakin’s use of his actual name. 

Trying to regain control of the situation before Captain Panaka could question it, Obi-Wan offered an excuse. “Excuse him,” he said to the captain. “Just prior to this we came upon a slave ring. He’s a bit upset by the term ‘master’.”

Captain Panaka understood. “My apologies,” he said to Anakin. “If you excuse me, I must check up on the Queen.”

The captain excused himself, leaving Obi-Wan and Anakin alone. Obi-Wan threw a sharp look at Anakin. “You need to be more careful.”

Anakin sunk lower into his seat. “Sorry, it just… slipped.”

“I know, but you still need to check yourself,” Obi-Wan said and he glanced to the door the captain exited from. “I think we’re okay for now. Captain Panaka didn’t seem to notice.”

“That’s good, right?”

“For us, yes, but Anakin… you need to control that temper of yours.”

Anakin sighed heavily. “I know. I know, but… slavery always makes me feel angry.”

Obi-Wan was well aware of that. Despite that he was rescued at the age of three from slavery, Anakin still had faint memories of the cruelty he had to endure in those short years. It never went away for him and any time slavery was mentioned, Anakin grew a hot head. Obi-Wan had spent the past decade teaching him to let go of his emotions, to accept the past and move forward from there. It was strenuous for Anakin, but he’s improved greatly. He hadn’t had an outburst in the past year. 

“Slavery is inhumane and unjust. Those who commit slavery should not have freedom themselves,” Obi-Wan said and he looked over at Anakin. “But you will still remain a slave if you keep your anger on it, young one. Anger and hatred is a form of slavery. You can never feel happiness if you feel anger or hate.”

“I know,” Anakin replied quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “Remember to let go of those negative feelings. They do you more harm than good.”

“Okay.”

Their discussion fell silent. Anakin kept piloting and Obi-Wan stared out into the mass of space. It puzzled Obi-Wan how quickly the Trade Federation organized itself into an invasion army. It most certainly had to do with Qui-Gon and Dooku, but to what means remained a mystery. The droids appeared to not recognize him or Anakin, so the invasion had nothing to do with them. Just poor timing. The blockade and invasion involved Naboo and the Queen, but Obi-Wan couldn’t see how the planet or its government was vital for their plans of galaxy domination. 

His concentration was interrupted by an abrupt alarm blaring in the cockpit. Obi-Wan glanced around for the source as Anakin started tapping away on the buttons. The door behind them hissed opened and Captain Panaka returned. “What’s happening?” he demanded to know, his eyes searching the space for enemy ships. 

Anakin peered at the control panel. “It seems that the hyperdrive is leaking.”

“That sounds important.”

“It is,” Anakin said, sounding bored by how little Captain Panaka knew about ships. “We need to repair it.”

Obi-Wan went to the map. “Are there any planets nearby?”

Captain Panaka shrugged. “Not that I am aware.”

Obi-Wan studied the map. He found only one planet. “Tatooine,” he said. “That’s our best chance. The Trade Federation has no presence there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because he visited the planet nearly seven years ago and knew it well. Of course, Obi-Wan didn’t say that. “It’s controlled by the Hutts.”

The captain became alarmed. “You can’t take the Royal Highness there! The Hutts are gangsters and—”

“It’s the best we have,” Obi-Wan cut the captain off. “If we go to a planet with Trade Federation connections, then we risked our lives for nothing. Besides, the Hutts aren’t looking for her. That leaves us with an advantage.”

Obi-Wan felt the captain’s frustrations through the Force. Captain Panaka clearly wanted to argue more on the matter, but he thought better of it and kept silent. Obi-Wan closed the map. “Set the course to Tatooine, Anakin,” he instructed.

Anakin set up the coordinates. Obi-Wan then turned to Captain Panaka. “I’ll need to speak with the Queen of our change in plans.”

Captain Panaka nodded and showed Obi-Wan out of the cockpit and toward the small conference room in the ship. The Queen sat perched on her throne, surrounded by her handmaidens on either side of the chair. The elder man sat in his own seat off to the side, looking quite shock and ill. It would seem he was not fond of Anakin’s piloting talents. 

Captain Panaka bowed before the Queen. “Your Highness,” he said with an edge of discomfort. “There seems to be a change of plans.”

The Queen eyed the captain. “What change?”

Captain Panaka looked back to Obi-Wan and stepped aside, giving Obi-Wan the floor. Obi-Wan mimicked the captain and bowed before the Queen. “I beg your pardon Your Highness,” he said. “The hyperdrive is currently leaking. We won’t be able to go much farther without fixing it. We scanned for the closest planets and decided that our best option is to land in Tatooine to make such repairs.”

That very word rocked the elder man in fright. “The Hutts! You want to take the Queen to such a vile place?”

“It’s the only planet that has no connections to the Trade Federation,” Obi-Wan said, looking at the Queen. “As I discussed with your captain, landing in Tatootine would give us the advantage. The Trade Federation won’t expect you to land there and the Hutts won’t be expecting you at all. It will give us plenty of time to fix the ship and take you to your true destination.”

“I do not agree,” Captain Panaka stepped back in. “Tatooine is a dangerous place, Your Highness. I do not agree with the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan glared at the captain, but he returned his focus to the young Queen. “Your Highness, Tatooine would be a far safer place than another planet while we make repairs,” he implored. “You must trust me on this.”

The Queen’s eyebrow rose up challenging. “Must I?” she responded quietly. Then her eyes slide to look to her handmaidens. The handmaidens stared back. 

After a brief moment, the Queen looked back to Obi-Wan. “I put my trust in your hands, Jedi.”

Obi-Wan tried to not react to the comment. He gracefully bowed and thanked the Queen. Before he could return to Anakin, the blue R2 droid rolled into the makeshift throne room. He was dirty, covered in smoot and smudge from its heroic efforts. It tooted and beeped. The Queen smiled at the droid. Captain Panaka took the cue and introduced the droid to the Queen. “Your Highness, this heroic droid saved the ship back there. We are very lucky to have this droid in our services.”

The Queen seemed to agree. “Very thankful,” she praised the chirping droid. “It shall be commended. What is its number?”

Captain Panaka dusted away some of the mess away as the droid beeped, the light on and off. “Artoo-Detoo, Your Highness.”

The Queen rose from her seat and placed her pale hand on top of the droid’s dome. “Thank you Artoo-Detoo. You have proven your bravery and loyalty,” she declared before calling out, “Padmé.”

One of the handmaidens walked up to the Queen. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Clean this droid to your best ability,” The Queen ordered. “It deserves our gratitude.”

Padmé nodded and led the droid out of the room. Obi-Wan took that time to make his exit. He walked with Padmé and Artoo-Detoo down the corridor in silence. The Force around Obi-Wan swirled and felt thicker. Every step he took, the Force rocked him, making him waver a little.

“Are you all right?”

Obi-Wan blinked and found that Padmé had stopped walking and was looking at him with great concern. “Oh… yes. I’m fine. A little dizzy, but that happens sometimes with the Force.”

Padmé was unsure if she should believe him or not, so Obi-Wan put up his best smile. “I’m quite all right,” he assured her. “I thank you for your concerns.”

Padmé accepted his response and carried on with her duties. They parted ways and Obi-Wan returned to the cockpit. Anakin twisted in his seat to watch Obi-Wan walk through the doorway. “What’s the news?”

“We are still heading to Tatooine,” Obi-Wan informed him.

Anakin kept a firm hold on the steers. “You seem nervous, Obi-Wan,” he observed. “Why? What’s wrong with Tatooine?”

So much, Obi-Wan wanted to say. Tatooine held a lot of bad memories for Obi-Wan. But there was one shining light about the planet—and it had nothing to do with the Twin Suns. It all had to do with his very first meeting with Anakin Skywalker. This was where Obi-Wan met the boy and where he witnessed the worst thing his master and grandmaster did in order to obtain Anakin.

But, of course, Obi-Wan said nothing. It was best to keep Anakin ignorant of those dark days. “Nothing’s wrong with Tatooine. It’s just not a super friendly planet.”

Anakin snorted. “Well, I think you and I can handle it. We already had our share of non-friendlies.”

The boy had no idea. Obi-Wan raked his fingers through his hair. “Land on the outside one of the major cities so we aren’t detected.”

Anakin nodded and piloted the ship toward the massive desert planet.

* * *

Nute Gunray was a cowardly figure. Most Neimoidians were. It was why Dooku chose them as they were easy to manipulate and wouldn’t dare challenge him. Their weak hearts and minds made them the perfect scapegoat. Therefore, Dooku shouldn’t be surprised to see them fretting when he commed them. The invasion should have been successful and the young Queen captive. 

“Report,” Dooku commanded underneath his oversized robe to hide his identity.

The Neimoidians—Gunray and Rune Haako—jumped out of their skins upon hearing his voice. Something that delighted and annoyed Dooku. Gunray stepped forward, his long fingers twisting together as he spoke in timid pieces. “We control all the cities in the northern and western parts of Naboo. We are rooting out any resistance—”

Dooku cared nothing about such. Of course they were going to capture those territories. The peaceful planet of Naboo had no army. They were no match against a droid army. “Yes, yes,” he said, rather impatiently. He despised having to treat them praises on a job that wasn’t hard at all. But he had to act cordially to them in order to keep the Neimoidians doing what they want. “You’ve done well. Now is time for the next steps. Eliminate any high officials.

"And what of Queen Amidala?” Dooku questioned the two Neimoidians. “Has she signed the treaty?”

That is when Dooku noticed that the Neimoidians looked more stricken than normal. Their red buggy eyes avoided him. That cause Dooku some concern. “What happened?” he demanded, the Force trembling around him. 

Gunray took a deep breath. “It appears she disappeared, my Lord.”

“Disappeared?”

“An escape,” Haako said, fidgeting. “One of the Nubian ships managed to get passed our blockade.”

Impossible! Dooku thought. Those battle stations were lined perfectly and weaponized to the extreme to ensure that no one could pass in or out of Naboo’s orbit. This news was unacceptable. “How could you let her escape!” he thundered. “There’s a whole army on that planet! How could you let her escape?”

Gunray trembled under Dooku’s heated words. Gunray looked back to Haako, but his partner backed further away, stricken in horror. “We… we don’t know,” Gunray could only offer. “Last I knew, we had her in our clutches. Then the next, she was gone.”

Dooku stirred underneath his robe. He wanted nothing more than to snap their necks. It was fortunate for them that they were still needed in order for Dooku’s plan to continue fruition. The Queen’s disappearance was only a minor setback. “Where did this ship go?”

Again, the Neimoidians were helpless. “We do not know. Once they past the blockade, we could not track them.”

Incompetence. Dooku huffed in aggravation at the Neimoidians failure to do one simple task. Once this was all over, he would be more than happy to kill them personally. His gleaming yellow eyes started straight at the cowering Neimoidians, picturing their discarded bodies. It was the only thing that made Dooku happy at the moment. 

Gunray was rattling on. “My Lord, we tried to follow the ship, but it eluded us. With it out of range, it will be impossible—”

Dooku shot up a hand to silence Gunray. “Nothing is impossible for the likes of us,” he said. “I’ll have your lost ship found and then you will get the Queen to sign that treaty.”

Before the Neimoidians could thank him or acknowledge his statement, Dooku ended their connection. He pushed his dark hood away from his face as his yellow eyes brimmed in fury. 

“Careful, Master. No need to lose control now.”

Dooku turned on his heel to find Qui-Gon leaning back in the chair. He had witnessed the entire conversation and listened with quiet pensiveness. Dooku moved to stand beside Qui-Gon. “The Neimoidians are complete idiots. Fools! How could they lose the Queen!?”

“What can I say?” Qui-Gon said with a nonchalant shrug. “You had incompetent men and you grossly underestimated the Queen.”

Dooku glowered at his former padawan. “I have no need for your commentary. I want that ship found and the Queen's signature on the treaty or else this is for naught!”

Qui-Gon agreed. He sat up in his chair, fingers stroking his beard. “Perhaps we should send out one of our disciples?” he suggested. “They can locate the ship and deal with the Queen and her rescuers.”

Dooku thought. “Yes… that is our best option,” he agreed. “Should we send out Maul?”

“He’s a savage,” Qui-Gon spat. His former padawan didn’t like the young Dathomirian's vicious fighting style and his uncontrollable rage. “If anything, he'll accidentally kill the Queen before she signs the treaty." Qui-Gon pondered a little longer. "I suggest Ventress. She has more control on her emotions and is an apt enough fighter to hold her own.”

Dooku weighed the options, but he knew his old padawan was right. Ventress was the better option. “Inform Ventress of her new mission. She is to kill all, but the Queen. No survivors.” Dooku checked the time. “I must go. I have a Council meeting that I cannot be late for.”

Qui-Gon rose from his seat. “I’ll go inform Ventress. She’ll be excited to use her lightsabers on actual beings instead of droids.”

“Tell her to be quick,” Dooku added as he stepped into the turbolift. The yellow in his eyes faded, returning to normal color. He dared not enter the Council Chambers with bright yellow eyes and reeking of dark. He raised his shields, holding them tight. “I’ll meet you later tonight to discuss more.”

And with that, they two departed. One to join the Jedi Council to discuss the Naboo situation and Qui-Gon to give Ventress her very first mission. 

If all worked well, Dooku thought. He could almost reach out and touch the future he and Qui-Gon were going to create. The Republic would be on their knees and the Jedi wiped out to be started anew. 

All will be well in the end. Once the Queen is found and signs the treaty, that future would proceed onward. And nothing. Absolutely nothing would stop them. Not the Republic. Not the Jedi. 

Not even the Force.


	5. Into the Desert

Obi-Wan stared out into the desert, whispers of spirits calling to lure him away from the ramp of the ship. The Twin Suns were stunning, but the rays burning his face were unwelcome. He forgotten how scorching it could be on Tatooine. He raised his hand up over his eyes, capturing the sight of the nearby city. A city he recognized too well that his heart skipped a few beats at the sight. Of all the places Anakin could land, he picked the outskirts of this particular city.

Obi-Wan pushed the fact aside. It didn’t matter. The Naboo needed assistance and Obi-Wan wasn’t going to bail on them now. He volunteered to venture out to the city to get the much needed parts. Anakin was to tag along with him. After all, his young ward knew the exact parts the ship needed.

Obi-Wan wore the grey poncho provided to him by the Queen. Anakin also received different clothes to help protect him from the sandstorms that whipped up every now and then on the planet. Anakin stood beside Obi-Wan, looking at the desolate planet with boredom. His brown hair fluttered with the wind, eyes squinting from the bright sunlight. “Who would want to live here?”

“Not the most promising planet,” Obi-Wan conceded. “Mos Espa is about a good few miles away. We’ll need to hurry.”

They went down the ramp, beginning their hike up the sandy hill. Anakin struggled, the sand sliding underneath his feet. He bent down, hands grabbing the sand to help the climb. Obi-Wan reached down and pulled him up. “Follow my footpaths, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded and took his position behind Obi-Wan when they heard a loud whistle from behind them. They both turned to see Captain Panaka waving them down, followed by a young girl dressed desert garb. Obi-Wan frowned, his leonine features creasing in dismay. He and Anakin climbed back down from the sandy hill, to which Anakin enjoyed far better than climbing up. Captain Panaka stayed and waited, the girl beside him. Next to her was the chirping droid, Artoo-Detoo. 

Captain Panaka addressed Obi-Wan. “The Queen requests you allow her handmaiden, Padmé, and the droid to join you.”

“With all due respect,” Obi-Wan started, glancing to the young girl. “But it would be easier if the two of us just go.”

“I think I misspoke,” Captain Panaka said and he leaned closer to Obi-Wan. “The Queen  _commands_ you to take them with you.”

Obi-Wan had to clamp down on his temper. He didn’t quite enjoy the captain’s abrasive attitude. Obi-Wan calmed himself, breathing in the humidity through his nose. “I’m not a servant to the Queen,” he reminded the captain. “Besides, Mos Espa is no place for a young girl—”

The girl stepped forward. Her dark eyes challenged Obi-Wan. “I’ve been trained in self-defense. I speak several languages fluently. And I am not afraid. I can take care of myself.”

The ferocity of her voice and stance surprised Obi-Wan. While he still considered rejecting her, he recognized the strength in those eyes. Obi-Wan thought–perhaps having a girl with them might give them a less aggressive look than two young men and a droid. “I still don’t like the idea, but she’s welcome to come,” he stated to the captain and then he turned to Padmé. “Stay close. Mos Espa is not a kind place.”

“You sound as if you’ve been there before,” Padmé observed, but Obi-Wan didn’t comment on it. He helped Anakin up the first sandy hill as they trudged their way to Mos Espa.

It was well into the afternoon when they arrived at Mos Espa. During the entire trip, Anakin made small talk with Padmé, trying to impress her with his technology skills. The handmaiden was kind, listening to Anakin ramble on about projects and ships. She would ask questions and it always lit up Anakin’s eyes when someone engaged him in his interests. Obi-Wan stayed quiet. He allowed those two to enjoy their company without his brooding to darken it. Tragic memories flourished in his thoughts. Those blackened memories kept him cold despite the heat of the Twin Suns. He tried to keep focused on the present moment, but every little thing of Mos Espa reminded him of that fateful night.

Mos Espa was a large and sprawling city with domed and thick walls to protect the people from the heat. Vendors were sheltered with verandas and awnings, keeping a nice shade over their products. The streets were wide and packed and Obi-Wan had to constantly keep in check where his companions were. He reached for Anakin’s hand, holding him close. “Don’t wander off,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin when the boy stopped to look at the strange fruits.

Anakin rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan’s worries. “Okay! Okay!”

Padmé nervously examined the domesticated banthas. “Strange place.”

“Tatooine is home to Jabba the Hut. He controlls the economy, which largely consists of trafficking illegal goods, slavery and piracy,” Obi-Wan murmured to Padmé. “Places like these are rough and dangerous. Those who come here come to hide.”

“Like us,” Padmé said.

Yes, like them. Obi-Wan gestured for the group to a shop. “Let’s start here.”

They all ducked into the shop, sighing at the relief from the suns. Immediately upon entering, they faced a pudgy blue creature with wings. The Toydarian snapped in a guttural voice. “What do you want?”

How polite, Obi-Wan thought. He noticed Anakin and Padmé stayed behind him as Artoo-Detoo rolled next to him. “We need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian.”

The Toydarian chortled with glee. “I have tons of Nubian. What part do you need?”

Obi-Wan looked to Anakin. The boy spoke up. “We need a T-14 hyperdrive generator.”

The Toydarian stared at Anakin in surprise by the boy’s mechanical knowledge and prowess. “You know machines?”

“I know a lot of things.”

That gave the Toydarian another guttural grunt. “Follow me,” he spat. “I got it out in the yard.”

They all followed the Toydarian to the yard. Anakin spied on all the pieces piled on top of each other and quietly roamed the salvage yard on his own. He stayed in Obi-Wan’s line of sight, which the young man was thankful for. The Toydarian searched for a moment among the scraps before he pointed out the massive generator. “You see? I have the hyperdrive you need,” the Toydarian proclaimed. “The question remains can you pay for it?”

“We have Republic dataries—”

“Republic credits!” the Toydarian exploded, insulted. “Republic credits are not good here. I need something of value!”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Then, he brought his hand up, casually waving it in front of the Toydarian. “The credits will be fine.”

“No, they won’t!”

Obi-Wan frowned and tried again. “Credits will be fine.”

That only aggravated the Toydarian. “No. It. Won’t!” he shouted. “What do you think you are? A Jedi? I’m a Toydarian! Mind tricks don’t work! Only money.” His wings fluttered rapidly. “No money! No deal!”

Obi-Wan folded his arms. “We don’t have the money you seek.”

“Not my problem. But… I also accept valuable things too.”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow up and saw that the Toydarian wasn’t looking at him. He followed the Toydarian’s line of sight to Padmé. Obi-Wan reeled in disgust and stepped protectively in front of Padmé. “I think we will try another shop.”

“You won’t find another T-14 hyperdrive generator anywhere else!” the Toydarian sneered. “I promise you that! I’m your best bet and I am willing to make a trade.”

“Well I’m not,” Obi-Wan threw back. “She’s not for sale.”

The Toydarian’s face folded. “I am not talking about the girl.”

He wasn’t? Obi-Wan looked to the droid. He wasn’t going to sell the Queen’s property either. The Toydarian flapped around Obi-Wan and Padmé, jabbing his stubby fingers toward Anakin. “I’ll trade the part for the boy. I could use a good slave–”

Obi-Wan’s face burned as bright as the suns combined. His fingers curled into fists, his nails pinching his palm. The Force grew thicker and thunderous, convoluting the atmosphere. The sudden change jolted Anakin to refocus back to the group. He trailed up behind them, standing by Obi-Wan’s side. Seeing Anakin’s worried expression, Obi-Wan quelled his anger, remembering the Jedi motto. “If you excuse us, we’ll be leaving.”

Obi-Wan put his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and directed him out, followed by Padmé and Artoo-Detoo. They left the shop, the Toydarian yelling after them with promises they would come back. But, Obi-Wan doubted he would ever return to that greedy scum. 

Anakin looked nervously up to Obi-Wan. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

They tried other dealers in Mos Espa, but it seemed the Toydarian—Watto, Obi-Wan soon learned—was the only one to have the exact part they needed. Nightfall came and they realized that they had no place to stay. With only Republic credits on hand, there was no way for them to rent out a shelter and desert nights were quite cold.

“Maybe we should head to the ship?” Padmé suggested after being turned away from another hotel.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s too late. Tusken raiders will be out,” he thought hard for a moment. His companions were trusting him to come up with a plan. He wasn’t used to having so many people looking to him for an answer. It was only Anakin and even then that was stressful. As he contemplated, a reminder poked his thoughts. He was here once before. He knew of a place that would be empty and available to stay. The problem was that Obi-Wan feared to return to that area. It held his worst memory and was relived almost every night for years after. It was not a place he wanted to go, but it was their only option now.

He resigned to fate. “Follow me.”

They all followed his lead as they weaved their way through the city, coming up to a more deserted area. The crowd thinned and the voices turned from ruckus shouts to grave whispers. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s nervous energy through the Force. The boy sensed the dread as well, Obi-Wan thought. They rounded a corner and that is when Obi-Wan faced his nightmare.

It was an old slave dwelling. Unkempt with scorch marks and rubble everywhere. It was pitch black on the inside, the stairs leading up to the door in half-ruined state. The domed rooftop had a hole as if someone or something shot it right through with a large blaster. It was not a welcoming sight and it sent chills along Obi-Wan’s arms the more he stared at the abandoned dwelling.

A small hand pressed into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Obi-Wan? I don’t know about this place. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I don’t like it either,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But it’s the only place I know of that we can sleep safely.”

“But it’s…” Anakin paused, staring warily, “It’s cold.”

It didn’t surprise Obi-Wan that the boy felt the Dark Side. The dwelling reeked of it. It festered. That was the reason people avoided the area. Which was also the reason why Obi-Wan knew they had to stay there for the night.

“I know Anakin,” Obi-Wan said to the boy. “I feel it too. But it’s our only option.”

Obi-Wan led the group to the dwelling, opening the broken door with an easy flick of his wrist. He reached for Padmé’s hand to assist her up the stairs.

Padmé wobbled over the debris as she climbed. “What happened here?”

Obi-Wan looked from her to Anakin to the rest of the scene. “A riot,” he decided. “A lot of people died.”

“Like a slave revolt?” Anakin asked.

If only, Obi-Wan wished. He recruited Anakin to help him with the droid and soon, all four were huddled in a small living space. It was grim. It contained more rubble and charcoaled marks along the walls where blasters missed. Obi-Wan remembered vividly of this room. He swallowed hard and handed his poncho to Padmé. “This should keep you warm.”

“What about you?” Padmé asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’ll take first watch." 

Padmé questionably glared at his vague responses, but accepted it for now and took her place in the far corner to sleep. Artoo-Detoo followed her, shielding her from the door. That droid was very loyal to the people of Naboo. Anakin had already began scoping out the place, scavenging for objects that may come in handy with whatever idea that came to his head. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan sat by the door, picturing the room as it was before and it broke his heart. 

"Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan glanced to Anakin who had something round in his hand. The boy moved to Obi-Wan’s side and presented his findings. “What’s this?”

Obi-Wan looked and his heart shattered. He knew exactly what it was. A mladong bracelet. Simple, jeweled bracelet worn by only one person Obi-Wan knew. Of all the things Anakin could find, it would be that. “It’s a bracelet,” he answered Anakin’s question. “Typically worn by a girl.”

Anakin brushed the bracelet with his thumb. “It’s the only warm thing I feel here.”

Obi-Wan quite agreed. The bracelet was the brightest light source in this dingy dwelling. “Then you should hold onto it.”

Anakin scrunched up his face. “I’m not a girl!”

“No, but if it feels right in the Force, you cannot simply leave it behind,” Obi-Wan said as a way of an apology, but Anakin wasn’t aware of it. “Keep it.”

Anakin examined the bracelet again. “Maybe I can give it to Padmé?”

A quick lift of his brow, Obi-Wan glanced from Anakin to Padmé. In one short day, they had managed to befriend each other so quickly. Obi-Wan could tell that the boy’s feelings for her were growing as the Force shimmered and brightened in Anakin’s end every time Padmé spoke. Obi-Wan wanted to remind Anakin that he shouldn’t get his hopes up about Padmé. She was a handmaiden to the Queen. She belonged to Naboo. Whereas he and himself… they don’t belong anywhere. 

But, the boy didn’t need any more sadness. “She may like it,” he agreed. “Now, you need to get some sleep.”

Anakin groaned at being told of curfew, but rather than do as Obi-Wan ordered, he plopped himself right next to Obi-Wan. “Why are you so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

“You weren’t until we came here,” Anakin said. “What happened here?”

“I already told you.”

Anakin studied him, prodding him with the Force. Obi-Wan immediately threw up his shields. He was not quick enough.

Anakin’s eyes widened. “You were here when it happened.”

There was some stirring on the other side of the room. Padmé was still awake and listening. 

Obi-Wan grew tired, releasing a long breath. “I was,” he admitted. “A lot of things happened here.”

“People die?”

They died so horribly. Their cries and screams forever echoed on these walls and Obi-Wan’s ears. 

“Yes, people died.”

“Like the girl who owed the bracelet?”

Not a girl, Obi-Wan remembered the dark haired woman, who looked sad and scared. “Yes.”

Anakin shivered and scooted closer to Obi-Wan. “I’m sorry.” And Anakin really meant it.

Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Anakin’s thin frame. “Not as sorry as I am.”

He looked up and for a split second, he thought he saw Shmi Skywalker standing before him, tears glistening in her eyes.

Obi-Wan held Anakin closer. “Not as sorry as I will ever be,” he repeated softly.

* * *

“Repeat that again?”

The High Council of the Jedi Order were all accounted and seated up in the tallest spire of their Temple. The buzzing of traffic hummed in the circular room, but it was barely noticable once the Council was in order. From the height, they could see all of Coruscant and it’s mass metropolis. A beautiful sight to behold! At the moment though, none noticed the city below them. All their attentions were turned to the blue holo-projector of a man dressed as a captain and a young woman adored in royal fashion.

The Queen of Naboo. 

Master Yoda, a green creature of a height of a young child, sat perched in his cozy seat. A gimer stick in hand to rest his three clawed paws as he stared intensely at the two guests. Next to him was Master Mace Windu, a tall, stoic dark Jedi whose intense voice could scatter away gundarks in fright! He addressed the Queen after they received a transmission from them. And their story was quite the tale.

The Queen of Naboo spoke again. Her voice calm. No traces of fears or worries. “We are thanking you for your quick assistance in helping me and my companions escape the Trade Federation’s invasion.”

Master Windu side-glanced at Master Yoda with a quizzically expression. “Your Highness, I’m afraid you are mistaken,” Windu said to the Queen. “We have just received word from the Senate to send Jedi as ambassadors to peacefully handle the conflict. I’m afraid our two Jedi have just departed.”

His answer drew a crease between the Queen’s eyebrows. She looked to her captain, who seemed perplexed, yet satisfied. The Queen turned back to Master Windu. “That is news to me,” the Queen informed them. “We were rescued by two male Jedi.”

And that was news to the Council. They had only just sent out Jedi to handle the Naboo crisis. Master Windu leaned forward in his seat. “Did they give you their names?”

“The older one addressed himself as Master Ben.”

The circle of Councilors murmured. No one recognized the name. Neither did Mace or Yoda. “I’m afraid we do not know a Master Ben,” Master Windu divulged to the now concerned Queen.

“If you allow me, Master Jedi,” The captain took over, stepping up to the forefront. The Queen, still relatively calm and stoic, watched her captain take the stand. “The younger one—the boy—called the older one by a different name.”

Suspense gave way to tension as the Council waited to hear the alternative name. The captain clasped his hands behind his back, the blue image flickering as he did so. “He called him… ‘Obi-Wan’.”

The Council Chamber had never been so quiet. They all sat rooted to their chairs, almost believing their ears misheard. Obi-Wan. That was a name that has been muttered in the halls of the great Jedi Temple for years. From promising padawan to lost padawan to finally rogue, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s name was hardly muttered except for in tight gossip circles or the Council Chambers. The day Padawan Kenobi did the unthinkable sparked an upheaval in the Order. Many saw it as betrayal. Others believed the boy was simply Lost and needed better guidance. The day Kenobi turned his back on the Order was not one many Jedi would forget. Even Master Windu and Master Yoda knew what they were doing the moment they received Qui-Gon’s distress call. It was a cloudy day and the Force felt dreary.

Since Kenobi went rogue, missions have been sent out to Sentinels and Shadows to capture Kenobi and the young boy. Master Yoda wanted them back alive and unharmed to face their respectful trials. Yet, each Jedi that came across them failed to capture them. And the longer they remained fugitives, the more fabled they have become. Younglings spoke of Kenobi with confusion and resentment. Padawans tried harder to prove to their Masters that they were nothing like Kenobi. And, Masters were hesitant to take a padawan in fear they too may be betrayed.

Only Qui-Gon Jinn and Yoda seemed to be the only two Jedi to feel any sorrow or reluctance to rule Kenobi out.

“I find your silence disturbing.”

The Queen took center stage again and all the Council members refocused back on her. “We apologize,” Master Windu said. “I am sorry to inform you that the two individuals who rescued you are not Jedi.”

Not a single facial reaction to the news was shown on the Queen’s face. Only the captain reacted. “Impostors?”

“Not necessarily,” Master Windu replied, looking to Master Yoda for guidance. The Grandmaster of the Order had his head bowed, meditating. “He was a former pupil before he betrayed us. We’ve been searching for him for quite some time.”

“Is he dangerous?” the captain demanded.

“He’s—"

"Dangerous, he is,” Master Yoda answered, lifting his head up. “But not toward you. Safe, will you be.”

Master Yoda’s words did not ease the captain’s worries. “We are currently stuck on a planet. Unable to go anywhere due to a broken hyperdrive,” he reported. “The impostors went out to the nearest city to purchase a new generator.”

“Where is your location?” Master Windu asked. 

“Tatooine, Master Jedi.”

Master Windu turned to Yoda. “If we can get a ship there, we could intercept Kenobi. And they we can be the escort for the Queen’s arrival to Coruscant.”

The green Jedi’s pointy ears bowed, distraught by his own thoughts. “Send Jedi to them, we must.”

Master Windu returned his attention to the Queen and captain. “We will send Jedi to your location immediately. Do not try to apprehend Kenobi on your own. Let the Jedi deal with him and the boy.”

The Queen looked perturbed by Master Windu’s declaration. “We shall wait for your Knights to come.”

“May the Force be with you.”

“And to you as well,” The Queen said and the transmission was cut out. 

And all of the Councilors spoke out in once.

“Unbelievable! How did we not know Kenobi was living among Republic space?”

“What are his intentions with the Queen? What were they doing in Naboo?”

“Something is happening. The Force is tilting.”

Everyone expressed their concerns until the thump of a gimer stick restored order. Master Yoda closed his claws on top of the stick. “No danger, Kenobi is,” he claimed. “Safe for now, the Queen and her entourage are. To send Jedi to Tatooine to capture young Kenobi we need.” Yoda turned to Master Windu. “Send Master Rhara and Padawan Muln to Tatooine.”

Dooku immediately took the floor. “Should it not be Qui-Gon? After all, he was the boy’s master. If anyone would be able to capture him, it would be Master Jinn.”

“Wouldn’t Kenobi recognize Jinn’s Force presence and be alerted of the trap?” countered Master Plo Koon.

Dooku flustered. “Perhaps, but–”

Yoda banged his gimer stick again. “Make it easier for Kenobi to quietly surrender, a friendly and familiar face will,” he stated. “Padawan Muln to bring him in, must it be. No one else.”

The Grandmaster’s final decision withstood and the Council meeting ended. They all strolled out, hoping this would be the day they finally captured the elusive Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Meanwhile, Dooku was storming back to the safety of his apartments. He dialed on his comlink until and a static blue image of Qui-Gon appeared. “Yes, Master?”

“Contact Ventress immediately!” Dooku growled into the speaker. “Tell her to not harm the occupants.”

“Why is that, Master?” inquired Qui-Gon, not fond of the change of plans. 

“Because your wayward padawan is among them.”

Qui-Gon appeared stunned. “What?”

“The Council just spoke to the missing Naboo Queen,” Dooku explained, ruffled. “Apparently, your old padawan helped her escape the Trade Federation and is currently with them.”

“Where?”

“Of all places—Tatooine.”

Qui-Gon brought a hand to his chin. “Back to where it all started.”

That irony was not lost on Dooku. “Contact Ventress and tell her the new plan. We will need to readjust, but hopefully, she can still finish the task before the Council ships off the Jedi to arrest Kenobi.”

Qui-Gon immensely agreed. “I’ll contact Ventress and I will make my departure to Tatooine.”

“No! You will not.”

Qui-Gon glared at Dooku. “I will not let some Jedi take my padawan. I’m going.”

“If you go you’ll only ruin us,” Dooku almost shouted in his comlink. “Qui-Gon–be sensible! Already the Council sent out two Jedi to capture Kenobi. If you show up, then the Council will start questioning. We cannot have them looking too closely at us. We’ll get your idiotic padawan and the boy. Let Ventress do her job.”

He could tell that Qui-Gon had no interest in letting Ventress perform the task he wished to take. Qui-Gon wanted to be the one to find Kenobi and the boy, to lure them back into the fold. But for now, Dooku needed Qui-Gon to stay low. These past years, Dooku has noticed a change in demeanor with Master Yoda. At first, the green troll seemed just as heartbroken and devastated as any Jedi when the news of Kenobi’s “betrayal” made its way around the Temple. He urged everyone to find them, but it seemed his efforts into finding them faded. He no longer became solely focused on finding Kenobi as his latest interests fell on Dooku. His old master seemed to interrupting his plans accidentally by arriving at one place or calling for Council meetings that interfered with plans. Dooku has even caught the green troll eyeing him suspiciously and Dooku wondered if the Grandmaster had finally figured out the truth. 

He may be paranoid. If Yoda knew, he and Qui-Gon would not be freely running around the galaxy. That didn’t mean they needed to give the Grandmaster any more clues or unnecessary second-looks. They needed to keep Master Yoda in the dark long enough until they were ready for the grand reveal.

Qui-Gon frowned at Dooku’s command, but jerked his head in acknowledgment. “Fine, but once they are captured, I’ll be the first to speak to them.”

“Of course,” Dooku said and he ended his transmission with Qui-Gon. 

He wanted to rage and rage and rage! Kill every single council member. Why did it not surprise him that of all the people to foil his plans, it was Kenobi? The duo were well known for wrecking up his hard-worked plans. He silently admitted that he was impressed of Kenobi’s feat in evading the invasion and blockade. Perhaps he shouldn’t quickly write off the young man yet. If Kenobi was that talented to foil his plans, he should reconsider Kenobi’s place in their new order.


	6. A Gambling Man

The black robe whipped around the thing, nimble legs of a Dathomirian woman. She scolded at the sand that pecked her legs. She hated sand. In fact, she hated the planet. The heat was unbearable and the emptiness around her reminded her of death. Who would want to live on such a planet was beyond her. She pulled out her binoculars and zoomed in on the town in the distance. It was more like a sprawling city. That is where the Force was leading to her. Her journey started in that city. 

She clicked on a remote and two flying, black orbs came zooming out from her ship. She hit another button and the orbs shot off toward the city.

Her lips peeled back to a predatory smile. Her ascension was coming soon. 

* * *

When Obi-Wan woke up the following morning, he found Anakin and Padmé sitting on chunks of what used to be a wall. Artoo chirped beside them as he wobbled to get closer. Anakin smiled and chuckled at whatever Artoo said. Obi-Wan stretched his arms over his head, feeling the aches and pains in his joints from sleeping in an unpleasant environment.

His movements caught Anakin’s attention. “Come join us, Obi-Wan!” he said. “Padmé got us breakfast.”

Obi-Wan waddled over, spying the bits of bread they each had in their hands. “How did we come by this?” he questioned, taking the piece Anakin handed to him. 

“I sold my hairpin,” Padmé answered his inquiry. “It wasn’t worth much, but we needed food.”

She was right. They hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and already his stomach growled at the hesitancy to gobble up the bread. Obi-Wan bit and chewed on a small piece. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to sell something.”

Padmé shrugged. “It wasn’t anything,” she replied, nibbling on her own piece. “What’s the plan? If they don’t take Republic credits, I don’t see how we can get off this planet.”

The unsolvable problem. Obi-Wan mulled over their predicament throughout the night. At his lowest point, he considered contacting Master Yoda. It put great risk for him and Anakin, but at least the Queen would be rescued. Unless, Master Yoda informed the rest of the Council—including Dooku—and then both them and the Queen would be in danger. In the end, Obi-Wan didn’t think it was worth the risk. It’s not that he didn’t trust Master Yoda for help. He didn’t trust him enough to believe in him. After all, Master Yoda didn’t heed his words when he told him of his worries when he was still a padawan.

Obi-Wan bit into his bread. “I thought about it overnight and I came to only one possible solution.”

Anakin, Padmé and Artoo-Detoo sat readied and attentive.

“One of the main trades here is gambling,” He informed the group. “If we can bet on something and win, we may earn money to buy that generator.”

Padmé sent him a scrutinizing look. “You are placing all our hopes and any chance of survival on a gamble?”

“It’s not ideal, but it’s better than other options.”

“We could try contacting the Senate?” Padmé suggested. “Inform them of our situation and send help?”

“I thought about that, but… that would only notify the Trade Federation of the Queen’s location,” Obi-Wan said before warning. “Tell one secret, then it’s bound to travel.”

Padmé crossed her arms. “Well I don’t like gambling our situation into a deeper mess. Besides, we don’t have anything to offer.”

Carrying only Republic credits, Obi-Wan knew she had a point. The only thing valuable they had was the droid and of course, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. He knew his lightsaber would sell big in the black market. Seeing as Obi-Wan could not gamble away the Queen’s prized droid, that only left Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. “We have one thing,” he said, softly, and he pulled out his lightsaber from his belt. “This may help us get some money.”

Padmé and Anakin gazed at the metal cylinder. “Obi-Wan… you can’t trade that!” Anakin proclaimed. “That lightsaber is your life!”

Yes, he remembered explaining to Anakin about the importance of a lightsaber. But at the moment, there were far other things more important to his life than his weapon. “It’s all right Anakin,” he said. “Sometimes one must let go of something for the greater good. Even if it hurts.”

Anakin wanted to argue, but Obi-Wan gave him a sharp look and the boy fell into a silent defeat. They finished their breakfast quickly and were back on the streets looking somewhere to trade the lightsaber for the best price. They lingered outside a shop, contemplating if it was the best option when a dark-skinned boy around Anakin’s age approached them. “You thinkin’ of trading for something?”

Obi-Wan cleared his dry throat. “Yes, we were hoping to make a bargain. Do you work here?”

The boy nodded. “It’s my master’s shop.”

His words struck them. The little boy, not much older than Anakin, was a slave. The conversation got awkward and saddening at the same moment. Anakin frowned severely while Padmé looked at the boy with great pity. And, Obi-Wan, he felt ashamed. “Is your… master around?”

The boy shook his head. “No, he’s getting ready for the big race.”

“What race?” Anakin asked. 

The boy stared at them with a laughable disbelief. “What race?” he exclaimed, shocked. “The Boonta Eve Classic of course! It’s the most popular race in the world! Everyone around comes to watch. It’s basically a holiday.”

“What do they race?”

“Podracers,” the boy answered. “You must be Offworlders. Almost all the shops are closed for the day. You aren’t going to get anything today.”

That was disappointing news. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if they could last another day in the city. “Is there any place we can somehow obtain a trade or some sort bargain?”

The dark haired child scratched his head. “Well, no… but!” he said as he gestured them to come closer. “I overheard of your problems. You carry only Republic credits.”

If this slave boy knew of their dilemma, how many others knew? Obi-Wan thought.

The boy still whispered. “If you want that generator, the only way to get it fairly from Watto is betting,” he answered. “He’s a betting being. He’ll rip you off if you pay with money. The best way is to bet.”

That seemed fitting for a creature like Watto. The greedy Toydarian would be easy enough to manipulate into a bet. “Where can I find him?”

“He’ll be at the cantina,” the boy pointed yonder. “Be careful though. He likes to cheat.”

“Thank you my friend,” Obi-Wan said to the boy. “What is your name?”

“Kitster.”

“Thank you Kitster,” Obi-Wan said. “I wish you all the best in life.”

He could say or promise no more to the poor, slave boy. Obi-Wan wished he could help Kitster and others, but starting a slave revolt would only jeopardize their mission to help the Queen of Naboo. He and company trooped over to the cantina Kitster pointed. Upon entering, they found themselves in a surge of an exuberant and seedy crowd. It was dark like a cavern with only a few spots of light here and there at packed tables. They slipped further in, scanning the heads of the patron until they spotted Watto in a corner table. His table was the loudest. He and several distasteful beings surrounded him as they drank pitchers of brown liquid that was so pungent Obi-Wan’s nostrils burned before he even got within a yard from Watto. 

Watto saw them heading toward him and slammed his glass down. “I told you would be crawling back to me!”

Obi-Wan ignored his brusque confidence. “I came to make a bet with you.”

Watto’s fellow patrons all chortled. Watto’s wings fluttered in pure excitement. “What bet can you make? You have nothing. I know that. The whole city knows it.”

“Not everything,” Obi-Wan removed his lightsaber from his belt and presented it to the Toydarian. “I think you may find this valuable of some sort.”

Watto peered at the lightsaber, studying it carefully. “A laser sword, eh? You think that’s worth the amount of a hyperdrive generator?” he laughed. “Laser swords aren’t worth as much as a generators!”

They were out of plans. Except for the desperate one. Obi-Wan resigned, realizing he must finally face the possibility that he and Anakin may be prisoners to the Jedi. Obi-Wan scooted from the table, focused on how to communicate to the Council, when Anakin rushed forward. “What about me?” he dared Watto. “Am I worth the same as a generator?”

The challenge shocked everyone. No free person ever volunteered their freedom for a bet. For Obi-Wan, it was an entirely different shock. He snatched Anakin’s wrist. “What are you doing?”

Anakin yanked his wrist out of Obi-Wan’s grip. “We need the generator. This is it!”

Suddenly, Watto and his companions all roared in laughter, their drinks splashing over their glasses. Watto slurped his drink and wiped his lips with his arm. “I strike that deal!”

Obi-Wan swatted Watto's hand away from Anakin. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Obi-Wan roughly pulled Anakin aside, scolding, “What are you thinking?”

“Kitster is right!” Anakin declared. “Gambling is the only way to get the generator.”

“Not with your freedom!”

“Ani, he’s right,” Padmé added. “Besides, we don’t even know anything about podracing.”

“I know a little,” Anakin stated.

“That doesn’t make you an expert,” Obi-Wan snapped, anger rippling through him. 

“I’m a great pilot! I can drive one of those!”

“Podracers are not like other ships, Anakin,” Obi-Wan nearly shouted. A few customers glanced in their direction. Watto was grinning from ear to ear at the scene. Obi-Wan lowered his voice. “They’re much faster, Anakin. Very fast. No human has ever successfully piloted one.”

A small smirk rose on Anakin’s face. “Guess I gotta be the first.”

A migraine overcame Obi-Wan. He rubbed his forehead, his thumb digging into the skull’s grooves. “Anakin—I forbid you to do it.”

And the smirk came crashing down. “Why is it that you can offer up your life but I can’t?” he tested. “I can do this, Obi-Wan! I can feel it in the Force. It’s telling me to do this!”

“Anakin enough!”

“NO!” Anakin shouted back, now gaining everyone’s attention. Yet, Anakin’s only looked at Obi-Wan. He was mad and hurt, the red tint in his cheeks gave it away. “You always tell me we need to think beyond ourselves and help those in need. Why won’t you let me help?”

“Anakin, I can’t gamble your freedom. I can’t.”

Anakin’s face soften, but his stern resolve didn't fade. “I’m not asking you to.”

Obi-Wan’s heartbeat was erratic. It pulsed to an exploding doom. He knew how dangerous podracing was. He had seen holo-videos of races and the spectacular and gruesome crashes that killed pilots. Anakin’s had only ever driven speeders, bikes and shuttle size ships. Not small pods with big engines that could go faster than 966 km/hr.

He looked into Anakin’s blue eyes and saw the determination to do what he wanted to do. Forbidden or not, Anakin was going to do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t because he rebelled to aggravate Obi-Wan. Anakin did whatever he could to help others. Even if it meant putting himself in perilous scenarios, much to Obi-Wan’s poor heart. He tried to deter Anakin from such reckless behaviors, but the boy was stubborn at times and most determined. Especially when he was trying to impress someone. Like Padmé.

Struggling, Obi-Wan sought for the Force to guide him in his search for an answer. The Force, however, only gravitated to Anakin. It sung and bubbled around him. A bright light. Obi-Wan’s shoulders drooped. He disliked the Force being against him, but he knew he should trust the Force even if it was against his wishes. He should even trust Anakin. The boy has yet to prove him wrong. 

But he doesn’t like it. He can’t… he was never going to be a good Jedi. He threw that dream away the moment he accepted his position as Anakin’s protector. He was no Jedi, no matter how much he practiced and repeated the Jedi motto. Obi-Wan simply cared too much for his own good. 

He would never be a good Jedi. 

After a long silence, Anakin took it as a sign to accept the challenge. Obi-Wan cringed at seeing the hand shake, turning away as Anakin struck a deal with the ugly creature. He snuck a glance at Padmé. She was silent, standing like a stone, her face rigid with intensity. She was displeased and mortified.

Anakin turned back to Watto. “If we win the podrace, we get the generator… and that protocol droid I saw in your dump.”

Obi-Wan restrained himself from groaning. A protocol droid? He was throwing a protocol droid into this mess as well?

Watto greedily flapped closer to Anakin. “If I win, you become my slave.”

Then, against Obi-Wan's heart, the deal was struck.

* * *

Dooku raised his cup to his lips, taking a small sip of herbal tea while Qui-Gon paced back in forth in front of him. It’s been several hours since the Council meeting and Qui-Gon had yet to get in touch with Ventress. The silence from her end was indeed troubling, but Dooku wasn’t going to fret over it like Qui-Gon was doing.

“She should have returned my messages,” Qui-Gon said in a scathing tone. “If she kills them…”

“Then you may kill her,” Dooku offered, putting his cup down. “Stop that insufferable pacing. You’re ruining the rug.”

Qui-Gon came to a halt and snapped to Dooku. “This is serious, Master! She should be able to receive my transmissions. That means she’s avoiding the calls,” he concluded and crossed his arms. “I should have gone to Tatooine. I don’t know why you convinced me otherwise.”

“Well, there’s no point going now. Either Ventress killed them or the Jedi captured them,” Dooku said, apathetic. “Either way, it’s too late for you to go running off. Stay. Meditate if you must! But you cannot leave. Not with Yoda lurking about.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “You paranoia about Yoda will drive you mad.”

“Just like your paranoia on Kenobi is driving you?” Dooku shot back. “My paranoia has some merit. If Yoda learns of our allegiance, then everything we’ve been building will end and you and I will be killed." 

Dooku rose from his seat, brushing away any wrinkles from his cape. "Besides, think of this all as a test for your wayward padawan,” he said, causing Qui-Gon to lift his brows in a quizzical manner. “If he manages to defeat Ventress, then he is worthy of our cause. If he’s doesn’t… then he was lucky to even live as long as he did.”

Qui-Gon huffed, but he saw Dooku’s statement as truth. “I guess we shall see whose apprentice wins,” he commented to Dooku. “But, if I was a gambling man, I would bet on Obi-Wan.”

Dooku restrained his eye roll. “Of course you would.”

Dooku would have also voted for the young man. As Qui-Gon’s padawan, he showed great promise. He felt in the Force. It’s why he required Qui-Gon to bring the boy to Serreno often so that he may instruct Kenobi in the art of makashi. Kenobi was a quick leaner, a promising blade for their plan. Dooku was pleased with the boy’s progress. When the boy ran away, Dooku searched for another replacement. Maul was promising, but Qui-Gon was right. Maul was an animal. Not so controllable and unpredictable. The next find was Ventress. She had a lot of vindictive anger toward the Jedi, which gave her a great hold of the Dark Side of the Force. Like Kenobi, she was intelligent and cunning, making her Dooku’s most promising student after Qui-Gon.

If Kenobi had stayed, Dooku could only wonder how fearsome of a warrior he would have become.

Doesn’t matter anymore about the what-ifs. In a few days, he and Qui-Gon would learn which apprentice will win: Ventress or Kenobi.

In either case, it was a win-win for him.

* * *

After striking the deal with Watto, Anakin suggested they go back to Kitster, in hopes he may have an idea on how to obtain a pod. It was good fortune that Kitster’s master had a pod available to ride. Obi-Wan and Anakin sat with the master and Anakin miraculously convinced the slave master that he was an experience podracer. The master agreed, happy to have his pod participating in the race! There was a certain detail that needed ironing. The slave master wanted to receive all the credits if Anakin won. Obi-Wan argued to obtain at least a quarter of the earnings. After a long argument, the slave master finally agreed. Anakin asked why Obi-Wan wanted the money if they only needed the generator. 

“Because I think Kitster deserves some commission,” Obi-Wan told him. 

An hour later, Obi-Wan stood next to Anakin, passing him tools as his young friend tweaked the blue-streaked podracer. Artoo-Detoo was up near the engines, re-wiring on Anakin’s instructions. Kitster, intrigued with the whole idea of a youngling racing, happily assisted Anakin with the seat alignment and belt.

The only person not joining them was Padmé.

She sat off to the side, her eyes burned in disapproval. Obi-Wan didn’t blame her. He too wasn’t happy about the plan, but the Force aligned with Anakin and the boy seemed positively stoked. Still, it didn’t quell the tightness forming in his chest. He was worried for Anakin. 

“Stop brooding, Obi-Wan,” Anakin spoke out from under the pod. “It’s not making me feel good.”

Obi-Wan tried to squash his dampening mood, but it was not easy. His anxieties kept coming back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin pulled himself out from underneath. “It’s all good there,” he concluded. He dusted the sand away from his clothes and inspected the pod. “It’s looking really good.”

“If you say so.”

Anakin elbowed Obi-Wan. “Come on! Don’t you have some faith in me?”

“Of course I do!” Obi-Wan said, quietly. “Doesn’t mean I cannot worry.”

A loud speaker statically came on, announcing that racers needed to line their pods up. Anakin spun to Artoo. “Hey Artoo! You nearly done?”

Artoo-Detoo gave a cheerful beep. He connected two wires and then rolled away from the engines, happily beeping his approval. Kitster tugged on the seat belt, ensuring it would hold. “All good up here, Ani.”

Anakin thanked the slave. “You did well Kitster,” he said and then paused, looking somewhat shameful. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

Kitster shrugged. “That’s okay. I may be a slave, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless,” he said, confidently. “One of these days, I’m gonna be a majordomo.”

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s face fall in confusion. “What’s a major—?”

“Come on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “We have to get this pod to the race.”

With assistance from the officials’ transportation, they lined their pod up with the others. They were all quite different from Anakin. First off, none of them were human. Second, they were all much older. All seemed to be at least in their twenties. Anakin was the lone outsider amongst a group of fierce and vile cheats. Obi-Wan muttered underneath his breath at the sight. The Force better not fail him. Or Anakin.

The announcer spoke again, reminding racers to get ready into their pods. A roar from the massive stands erupted as the announcers spoke about each racer, giving them fun, but inaccurate tidbits about each one. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. The Force’s test was about to begin. For both of them. 

“All right,” Obi-Wan said as he took a knee so that he could look Anakin straight in the eye. He noticed the intensity, but steadiness of Anakin’s concentration. That gave Obi-Wan some comfort. “Are you all set?”

Anakin nodded. “Yes. Got Artoo to fix the engines to increase the speed and I reprogrammed the brakes so that it won’t be faulty.”

Faulty brakes would be bad and Obi-Wan didn’t want to imagine Anakin perishing in a flame of fire because his brakes failed him. “Good. Good,” he said, commanding attention. “Now—podracing isn’t like a joy ride. There are going to be dangers. Some more invisible than others. You must stay focus. Trust your instincts.”

Anakin nodded again. “I will,” he said. “I promise.”

And that was all Obi-Wan could get. He hugged Anakin. Maybe a bit too tight, but Anakin returned the same amount of pressure. Then, Obi-Wan lifted Anakin up and placed him on the seat. Anakin situated himself and buckled in when Kitster passed the old battered helmet. Obi-Wan examined the dingy helmet that obviously seen more crashes than wins and reluctantly placed it on Anakin’s head. “May the Force be with you.”

Anakin smiled to Obi-Wan. “May the Force be with you too.”

Obi-Wan backed away from the pod, but it was then that Padmé marched up to Anakin, hands clenched at her side. She was going to make her last stand. “You don’t have to do this.”

Anakin looked up. “Yes I do. It’s the only way to get your ship fixed.”

“But not at the cost of your freedom, or worse, death.”

“I’m not afraid,” Anakin said to her and Obi-Wan knew through the Force that Anakin was being truthful. The boy wasn’t afraid. And that worried him the most. Anakin's constant fearlessness lead to recklessness and endangerment. No matter the lectures he gave to Anakin, the boy refused to establish any fear, charging forward without forethought. It irked Obi-Wan, mostly because he would have to go in and clean up Anakin's messes. He only hoped that this wouldn't end like all the others.  

Padmé stared wordlessly at him for a moment. Almost as if she was trying to figure him out like a puzzle. “You are a very brave soul,” she finally said. Then she leaned over the pod and gave a small kiss on Anakin’s exposed cheek. “You carry all our hopes.”

A pink tint shaded Anakin’s cheeks as he jutted his lips out. “I won’t let you down.”

Padmé stared at him a little longer as if she was trying to capture that moment, and then moved back to where Obi-Wan, Kitster and Artoo-Detoo waited for her. They left Anakin’s side and maneuvered their way to a viewing platform. As they were climbing up the staircase, they heard the guttural voice of Watto.

“You thinkin’ you going to win?” he spat at Obi-Wan, his wings flapping wildly. “I got all my bets on Sebulba. Five-time champion of the Boonta Eve! You are going to lose, you Offworlders! And I’ll earn a good slave!”

Watto then fluttered off, cackling in fits of greedily glee. Padmé turned to Kitster immediately. “Is that true?”

Kitster hesitated. “Well… Sebulba wins because he cheats. He wouldn’t if it was fair though.”

Padmé swirled to Obi-Wan. “We can’t let him do this!”

“It is out of our hands,” Obi-Wan stated and he started his climb again.

Padmé chased after him. “You’re just going to let him do this? Risk his life? His freedom?”

Her accusations were grating on his nerves. “You think I’m happy with this? You were there! I spoke out, but Anakin will always do what he wants. Especially if it means helping people he cares about.”

Padmé wrapped her arms around her waist. She looked ill. Her face paled and her brown eyes were larger than before as if she was about to cry. Obi-Wan moved over to her side and slipped a hand on her shoulder. “He’s trying to do the right thing,” he explained. “Anakin—he has this desperate need to help people. Especially ones he grows to care about. Anakin always had a big heart. It’s just the way he is,” Obi-Wan looked over their platform, spying Anakin in his seat, tinkering with his goggles. “I would have given anything to the galaxy to switch places with him, but it’s not my task. It’s his. I’m not happy about it. But I won’t deny him his destiny. If he’s meant to help you, then I will let him help you.”

Padmé took several deep breaths during his talk. Her nose sniffling a few times. She didn’t turn her head to him, but she did lean into his touch. An anchor of comfort. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Nor I." 

Padmé finally turned to Obi-Wan. “You know… you’re not what I imagine a Jedi to be,” she admitted. “You or Anakin. You seem… I don’t know. Different.”

Or not at all, Obi-Wan thought. “We get that a lot.”

Padmé hummed, eyes curiously studying him. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even think you to be a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan raised a brow, questioning her statement. He eyed her carefully, analyzing her position, words and tone. She doesn’t know the truth. There was no way. Unless… no. That was silly. She wasn’t Force sensitive. However, she was perceptive. 

So, Obi-Wan decided to play along with her game. “And if I didn’t know any better,” he said to her with a knowing half-grin, “I wouldn’t believe you to be a simple handmaiden.”

He got the reaction he wanted. It was subtle and an untrained person wouldn’t have caught the flicker of getting caught unaware. But, she schooled her face perfectly once more. “I guess people aren’t always what they appear to be nowadays.”

“You can say that again,” Obi-Wan agreed, thinking about two Siths posing as Jedi and fooling the entire Order. 

A great thunderous applause erupted as giant slug slid its way to the massive box-office seat. Obi-Wan curled his nose at disgusting sight of the galaxy’s biggest crime lord. The banners were raised and engines started whirring and coming to life. 

The race was about to begin.

Padmé stepped up to the edge of their platform, standing next to Kitster. Artoo gave a warily beep from behind. Obi-Wan patted his dome. “It'll be all right, my little friend.”

Little did Obi-Wan know that for himself, Anakin and Padmé, it was beginning of a long and deadly game.


	7. The Truth Is...

Obi-Wan never wanted to see a pod race ever again.

After watching one pod after another explode, Obi-Wan only pleaded with the Force to protect Anakin. Each lap Anakin made brought a great sense of relief, but then a new rising terror. Padmé kept snatching Obi-Wan's tunics any time the announcer revealed a crash, but loosen when it wasn’t Anakin’s name being called. But, Anakin was doing quite well. His start kept him back, but each lap he rose up the rankings. From 12th to 6th to now battling for first place. There was an uproar in the crowd. The announcers kept yelling that they couldn’t believe that a _human_ was in contention for first place. Let alone an unknown pilot! People around them starting chanting Anakin’s name as he rounded onto his final lap against Sebulba.

When the final stretch came, Obi-Wan and Padmé watched, their faces framed with worry. Sebulba had personally killed three other pilots and his next target was none other than Anakin. Padmé peered out into the desert in hopes to see him, her worries trickling out into the Force. Obi-Wan too looked out at the desert landscape, searching for Anakin through the Force and sending encouragements through their bond. Yet, his own anxieties drained him and Obi-Wan found himself repeating the Jedi motto once again: _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge…_

Anakin’s pod came into view, tying up next to Sebulba. In fact, they were neck to neck and Obi-Wan sensed the reason was that they were hooked together. Obi-Wan reached out to Anakin through the Force and felt the boy’s nervous energy flare through their shared bond. He was scared. He didn’t know what to do. Obi-Wan sent a calming vibe, quelling the turmoil in Anakin’s mind. Think Anakin, he messaged the boy. Trust your instincts. 

A second later, Anakin refocused. Obi-Wan and Padmé watched on the verge of devastation. Then, the two pods unhooked and the big orange pod broke into two and lost control. Anakin’s pod continued onward and came to a screeching halt just passed the finish line. He won!

The audience erupted in cheers of wonder and shock, but none were as loud as Obi-Wan’s and Padmé’s cries of relief for their friend. Kitster was screaming madly before he rushed off their platform to join Anakin. Obi-Wan, Padmé and Artoo-Detoo followed close behind.

Anakin unbuckled and stood up on the seat as the swarm of fans rushed to him. Obi-Wan pushed forward in the surge and when Anakin spotted him, the boy leapt off the pod. Obi-Wan had to lunge to catch him, but he did and they embraced. 

“I won! I won!” Anakin cheered into his ear. “Did you see me?”

“Of course I did!” Obi-Wan yelled over the crowd. “You did it, Anakin! You did it!”

Finally, Padmé, Kitster and Artoo-Detoo arrived at their side, all bursting in smiles and cheers. Kitster whooped in glee, fist pumping and telling everyone around him that Anakin was his friend. Padmé looked up at Anakin with a wide-eyed amazement. Artoo-Detoo rocked, beeping and chirping in excitement. They were all happy, but not in the same manner as the fans who reached toward Anakin to touch greatness. 

They were happy because Anakin was alive and they could finally get off this planet.

Above their little heads, capturing the shining moment, was a black probe that zoomed in on their faces. It took a picture and then zipped away through the sky, back toward the sandy desert. 

* * *

A short time later, after Obi-Wan managed to pull Anakin out of the crowd and handed Kitster his earnings, they met up with Watto at his salvage yard. He appeared dejected, wings barely flapping as he stared offside. But, the moment Obi-Wan stepped into the shop, his dejection transformed into an undisguised fury. He nearly rammed his short trunk nose into Obi-Wan’s face. “No!” Watto spat. “I’m not giving you anything! You swindled me!”

“It wasn’t me who made the bet,” Obi-Wan took a step away. “A bet is a bet. You owe us the generator… and the protocol droid,” he added when Anakin nudged him.

Watto’s eyes filled with hate. “No! I’m not giving you a single thing!”

Obi-Wan returned with a chilling glare. “If you wish to argue, we can go straight to the Hutts.”

Watto fumed, but then an eerily, knowing smile spread across his ugly face. “You won’t talk to the Hutts.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Because I know what you are… Jedi.”

Obi-Wan said nothing. Being called a Jedi wasn’t a dishonorable title or an insult for Obi-Wan. Yet, being called a Jedi on Tatooine knotted his insides. His heartbeat skipped and a cold, knife like precision carved into his side. All the moisture zapped from his throat, giving him a dry spell and unable to speak in defense. Instead, he stood like a petrified child.

Watto saw the fear and twined his talons together in gratification. “I remember a story that took place many years ago,” he said, flying closer to Obi-Wan. “About three Jedi who came to Mos Espa and murdered innocent people. It so happens one of the Jedi was described as a young human male with red hair.”

Obi-Wan heard the tiny gasps from behind. Either it be Padmé or Anakin, it did not matter. Already he felt ashamed. He had been ashamed of that memory since it happened. Watto was right. He was a murderer, but not in the way he believed.

Watto kept sneering at him. “Jabba will be most pleased to see another one. He’s been wanting to have his revenge.”

“Then I am afraid he must be kept waiting,” Obi-Wan said, calmed and ignoring the confusion that distorted his bond with Anakin. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Besides… I am no Jedi.”

Watto flew forward, talon jabbing at him. “You have those lightsabers!”

“From the black market,” Obi-Wan swiftly lied. “A Mandalorian was selling it and I thought it to be a neat weapon to own.” Obi-Wan stepped up, matching Watto in intensity. “So, please, let us go visit Jabba. I’m sure he would like to know which individuals under his authority likes to swindle. Because, those who cheat once are bound to cheat again.

“And even if I am one of those so-called Jedi who murdered a bunch of people years ago,” Obi-Wan added, his voice colder than he ever wanted it to be, “what would make you think I wouldn’t strike you down now?”

Watto jerked back like Obi-Wan’s words were hot venom. His wings shivered as he looked down at the lightsaber swaying on Obi-Wan’s belt. “No! Mercy!” he panicked, backing further away. “Take it! Just…take it and go!”

They obliged. In silence, they loaded up the generator and Anakin’s protocol droid. It was an ugly-looking droid. All of its wires were showing and it had a missing eye. As they exited the shop with their goods, Obi-Wan expected to be horded with questions. Instead, neither Padmé nor Anakin said anything. They kept their heads down and Artoo-Detoo didn’t even beep at all. 

Obi-Wan could feel their burning questions through the Force. Anakin was in extreme denial. His thoughts coming to different and far-reaching conclusions while Padmé grew cautious, her self-defense skills coming to the forefront. Their silent, disquiet anxieties only burdened Obi-Wan. He was tired of the secrets and the dark. He’s been running for so long and to be fair, they both deserved the truth.

“You have questions,” he said as they began to hook the goods onto the speeder bike they rented. “Go ahead.”

Anakin was the first one to speak. “He’s a liar,” He said proudly, hoping the confidence in his voice made the statement true. “It was all lies.”

Obi-Wan looked distraught for a moment. Anakin always had complete faith in him. This was going to break both of their hearts. “Not all of it.”

“So you were there,” Padmé said, crossed.

Obi-Wan stiffly nodded. “I was.”

Anakin gaped at him. First in shock before it twisted to horror. “Y-You killed people?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, but he nearly choked instead. Confessions were harder than committing. “In a way.”

That did not satisfied Padmé. It only terrified her. She moved herself to stand next to Anakin, preparing to do what was necessary to protect him and herself. “What do you mean?” she asked for direct clarification.

Obi-Wan twisted the bindings hooked along the generator, cutting circulation from one of his fingers. “I may not have dealt the killing blow, but I… a lot was happening,” Obi-Wan ran his hand through his auburn locks. It was time to come clean.

“I came to this planet with two other Jedi: my master and grandmaster. We were to meet up with a slave trader. Gardulla the Hutt,” Obi-Wan started his dark tale with a tightness in his throat. “Things got out of hand and before I knew it, a firefight broke out. The two other Jedi pulled out their lightsabers and…”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to look away from Padmé and Anakin. He saw the scene all over again. He was standing in a small living space, cramped and uncomfortable. Then he heard shouts and screams and cries all at once. Blaster shots going off and the sounds of lightsabers humming through the cries. Obi-Wan rushed to the pain, but was stopped by his master. His master gave him an order. Obi-Wan kept hearing the pleas and screams, but Qui-Gon commanded him to go. And Obi-Wan did what he thought was best at that moment. He left the dwelling with the horrors, carrying a crying toddler in his arms.

Upon seeing the strain on his face, Padmé’s narrowed eyes eased to concern. “You didn’t kill those people.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, refusing to look at either her or Anakin. “Not by my hand, no,” he said quietly. “I tried to go to them. To help, but… I made a choice.”

Anakin picked at the bindings. “What choice?”

“I chose to save a life.” He looked down at Anakin with great sympathy and love and sadness and pain.

Anakin stared up puzzled, trying to connect the story when his little eyes rounded and his chest rose and fell in big waves. “Me,” Anakin whispered in disbelief. “Y-You saved me.”

Again, Obi-Wan nodded as Anakin came to the dawning revelation of his own past. “That place… where we slept. That was my—”

“Your home, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed and he saw the bracelet peeking out from Anakin’s pockets. “And that bracelet—”

Anakin reached for the bracelet. “What about it?”

“It belonged to your mother.”

Anakin’s eyes hurriedly darted from Obi-Wan to the bracelet. Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s throat tightened, tears building. He pulled out the bracelet, cradling it in his hand for a moment. “Is she alive?”

The question Obi-Wan hated to answer. “No.”

Anakin was breathing hard. He looked away from Obi-Wan and a hushed silence fell upon the group. Obi-Wan wanted to end that insufferable pain Anakin was feeling. To cease it from existence, but he couldn’t. All Obi-Wan did was shared his own grief of that night to the innocent boy who had no recollection of his horrid past. Something Obi-Wan was thrilled about for the past seven years, but now he could no longer safeguard the boy from the truth. 

Anakin stepped aside from the speeder bike, backing away as he stared at his mother’s bracelet. “I-I can feel her,” he murmured and when he raised his head up, streaks of tears fell down his cheeks. “She was in pain. And afraid…”

Obi-Wan moved to comfort Anakin as he always did when the boy suffered from a nightmare, but Anakin jerked away. Obi-Wan stopped, disheartened. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone. That’s why I left. The next night after the massacre, I took you and we ran away. Far away so that they couldn’t find us.”

“You lied to me! You said…” Anakin couldn’t finish his sentence. His words cracked and bled from the profound betrayal. 

Obi-Wan felt his own tears surfacing. “I never lied to you, Anakin. I kept some things out, yes, but I never lied. You were in danger, so I did what I could to protect you. I figured it was a way to repay your mother.”

“DON’T SAY HER NAME!” Anakin cried and he spun around and stormed off to the shade.

Obi-Wan didn’t pursue him. A big revelation like that deserved silence and reflection. He turned to give Anakin his privacy when he saw Padmé and Artoo-Detoo still standing by the speeder. He had forgotten they were even there.

“Let me guess,” Obi-Wan said as he returned to fix the last of the bindings. “You think of me as a monster?”

Padmé lifted her brows. “I don’t think of people as monsters,” she stated, calmly. “And I do not fault you for their deaths. However, I don’t understand why you just didn’t ask your master and grandmaster to stop or at least tried to get them to stop.”

Obi-Wan snorted, but when he saw her furious glower, he retreated. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “If you knew who they were, you would have realized the emptiness in your question. I couldn’t have stopped them. They wouldn’t have listened to me and even if they heard my pleas, they would have simply told me to do as I was told.”

A crease formed between Padmé’s eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like a Jedi.”

“That’s because they’re not,” Obi-Wan stated. “They stopped being Jedi long ago. Tell me—have you ever heard of the term, Sith?”

Padmé reviewed the word thoughtfully before shaking her head. Obi-Wan figured. It was a very outdated term nowadays. “Sith were once the ultimate enemy of a Jedi. They stood for everything the Jedi was against: power, corruption, terror, etc.,” he explained and once he saw that Padmé understood, he did the final reveal. “My master and grandmaster are Sith. Have been for nearly ten years.”

Padmé was shocked. “Why didn’t you report it to the Council? Or another Jedi?”

“You think I haven’t?” Obi-Wan challenged in a snap of his voice. “I tried to tell the other Masters, but no one believed me. My Master… they were good at shielding themselves and manipulating situations to hide the truth. When they caught wind of me passing on my concerns to other Jedi, they took me away from the Temple, from my friends! They secluded me so that my only companions were them.

"So, when they murdered Anakin’s mother, along with the slaves and masters, I did what I thought was best at the time,” Obi-Wan concluded and he gave one last tug on the bindings. “I ran away with Anakin and we’ve been running since.”

Padmé stood silently once more. Her hard gaze moved from Obi-Wan to Anakin, who still sat in the shade and holding onto the bracelet. She seemed almost paralyzed, unsure what she should do or say to either one of them. Obi-Wan wouldn’t stopped her if she decided to lash out at him. He deserved it. He deserved everything he got. Didn’t matter what Obi-Wan did or what happiness he could obtain, in his heart, he felt an infinity of sadness was always going to be his future.

Suddenly Padmé stepped up beside him and place a hand on his arm. “You’re not a bad person,” she assured him. “You just had bad things happened to you. To both of you! You may not be a Jedi and you’ve done questionable things, but deep down, you’re a good person.”

“Depends on who you speak to.”

They both looked to Anakin. Obi-Wan sensed the agony vibrating along his bond with Anakin and a gentle probe of pity coming from Padmé. The young handmaiden didn’t deter though. “Anakin still loves you,” she said, confident. “He looks up to you. Like a younger brother looks up to a sibling. He may be upset now, but he knows that you’re a good person. He’ll know that you weren’t the one who killed his mother.”

“But maybe he should,” Obi-Wan responded. “After all, I didn’t save her.”

“Could you?”

Obi-Wan thought. “No—I wouldn’t be able to. Even if I got Anakin to safety and ran back, she would have been dead.”

“Then he’ll forgive you,” Padmé stated. “People can only suffer for so long before they want happiness again.”

Padmé’s words and confidence made him feel a little better than he did at the start. He thanked her and went back to inspecting everything. It was all in good order. “Well, I think it’s time for us to leave and get your Queen to Coruscant,” he addressed Padmé. “Want to get Anakin?”

Padmé walked over and called for Anakin. The boy looked up and when he saw it was Padmé, he removed himself from his spot to join her. They got to the speeder just as Obi-Wan hooked Artoo-Detoo in his seat. Artoo-Detoo gave a low beep and Obi-Wan thought it might have been Artoo-Detoo’s way of giving his sympathy. He smiled at the droid and gave him a nice tap on his dome head. “Stay safe, little guy.”

Obi-Wan next went to help Padmé up the speeder bike. She accepted his hand and hopped on the end of the speeder bike. She situated herself properly, giving room for Anakin. Obi-Wan bent down to hoist Anakin up, but the boy clambered up the speeder without assistance. He slipped at first, but Padmé grabbed his hand and helped pull him up to the seats.

Obi-Wan sighed, but he let it be. He and Anakin can talk again another time. He only hoped that Anakin could truly forgive him for his involvement in his mother’s death.

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to hop on the bike and drive them back to the disabled ship when he felt a change in the atmosphere. He paused in his footing, concentrating. It was familiar. He scanned Mos Espa's landscape and saw nothing. Then he scanned the landscape of the Force and he felt… something. It was an intrusion. An unbalanced state of dark matter weighing down the harmony needed to keep a certain balance.

“What’s wrong?” Padmé’s voice drew Obi-Wan back to them. 

“Something’s not right,” Obi-Wan announced to them. He looked back, trusting his senses to lead him in the right direction. As he eyed the crowd, he spotted a tall, thin figure, cloaked in all black, marching to them. The cloaked person stopped just a short distance away from them, but Obi-Wan knew that it came for them specifically. 

Then, the person removed their hood and Obi-Wan looked into the face of a very pale woman with dark eyes and a tattooed head. Her predatory smile was directed at Obi-Wan. “Leaving so soon?” her sweet words dripped with poison. Her hands reached to her waist as she shrugged off the large cloak. Two, curved lightsabers appeared in each hand.

The newcomer poised herself for battle and she sneered. “But we only just met.”


	8. The Battle of Tatooine

“Go!” Obi-Wan urged to Anakin and Padmé, sensing the heightening danger arising from the newcomer. “Get out of here!”

“But…” Anakin mumbled, but Obi-Wan shoved him to the front of the speeder and forced his hands on the bars.

“ _Go_!” Obi-Wan implored to Anakin as he whipped out his lightsaber and activated it. The blue blade blazed his face in a cool, blue fire.

It was a good thing he reacted quickly. With no hesitation, the woman leapt up in the air and came barreling down on him. A primal cry escaped her lips as she slammed her two, blinding red lightsabers into Obi-Wan’s electric blue. The lightsabers hissed and crackled upon contact and the red flare highlighted the dark tattoos on the woman’s scalp. Obi-Wan recognized them to be of Dathomirian. As the lightsabers charged and sparked, Obi-Wan twisted his blade down and spun to the side, narrowly missing the red blade stab. 

In the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye, he saw the speeder zip away in the distance. Everything was all right. Anakin and Padmé escaped. He only needed to occupy her long enough for them to get the generator fixed and fly off this desert planet. 

The woman charged again, teeth bearing in unadulterated rage. Her dual lighsabers struck at him, but Obi-Wan managed to block every single one. She slashed at almost every angle, trying to get a blow against him, but Obi-Wan stayed firm and relentless. He blocked her again and again, but he found no escape point. She was incessant and he acknowledged that she was highly trained in the Jedi arts. A skilled and dangerous foe.

He also sensed the aggressive anger followed more aligned with resentment and envy. Something in the way she looked at him was both unnerving and unwelcome. Yet, he got a funny feeling that she personally hated him. Obi-Wan didn't know why. He had never met her before.

After dueling in a swirl of sand, Obi-Wan caught the woman off-guard by giving her a hard kick to her wrist. The blade slipped out from her grasp, giving Obi-Wan the chance to swing down with little defense. The woman saw it coming and rolled out of the way just in the nick of time. Separated by a few good meters, they both glared at one another, panting under the heat of their lightsabers and the twin suns. By that time, the street was abandoned by civilians, all sprinting away from the lightsaber duel for safety. 

Smart of them, Obi-Wan thought. He was certain the woman would have killed anyone that got in her way. 

Obi-Wan studied the woman, noting every detail about her in an attempt to identify her. He came up with nothing. She was a complete stranger. “Pardon my rudeness, but… who are you?” he asked.

The woman only growled. “Someone who is more worthy than yourself, false Jedi!”

Obi-Wan tilted his head. “I see,” he said. “Well, don’t mind me then. I would hate to drag you down to my level.”

And that sent the woman into another vicious flight. She stormed at Obi-Wan, lightsabers wielding in a combative arch. Obi-Wan sensed her direction and Force-jumped to the building’s rooftop. The woman whirled around, seething as she looked up at the bright suns that radiated behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan spun his lightsaber in his hand, positioning himself when she got the nerve to join him on the rooftop. 

He was right in his assumption about her. She personally despised him. For what reason was a mystery to Obi-Wan. He had never seen her before and he could not think of a reason for her to hate him. Most peculiar was the fact she called him a false Jedi. The most accurate description for him by far.

As expected, she joined him up on the rooftops as the civilians in the homes screamed in terror at the sight of two individuals fighting with lightsabers. Many probably remembering the massacre years ago as they withdrew from their homes to seek shelter further away. Obi-Wan continued to battle the woman. Her passion behind her offensive strikes were powerful and Obi-Wan struggled to withstand the amount of force she used in her attack. She was supple and quick, but Obi-Wan had not been idle in the past seven years. He kept training and practiced lightsaber techniques. He managed to keep up with her frenzied pace, blocking and parrying each hit. As they dueled, he looked into her mad eyes. She was focused and determined, no hesitation in any of her strikes. It was then Obi-Wan realized she only ever knew one thing and was trained to do: kill him.

Yet, the resentment that spoiled the Force and choking Obi-Wan was difficult to understand. Again, he had never personally met her and yet, she took offense even at the sight of him. That was when he realized his advantage. 

She was too busy focusing on him. If he could lure her into a certain area, then he could easily end this duel. Obi-Wan concentrated and remembered that a small gap between the dwelling and the next dwelling. If he pressured the woman in that direction, she could slip through the gap and fall. Obi-Wan switched tactics. No longer on the defense, he turned his blade and pressed for attack. His change in style surprised the woman and she attempted to re-engage herself back into the fight, but Obi-Wan prevented her. She tried to somersault her way around him, but Obi-Wan caught her mid-flip and slashed at her clothing. Strands of her uniform dangled, revealing her pale leg. Yet, it didn’t slow her down. 

Her agility allowed her to miss Obi-Wan’s careful assault while also planting her own attacks against him. The two of them wheeled and spun, leaping and dodging as they clashed lightsabers in a relentless search to seek an opening in the other’s defense.

It was going to be a long and intense duel.

* * *

After a good distance away, Anakin slowed the speeder to a stop in the middle of the desert. Ever since he followed Obi-Wan’s command and drove straight out of Mos Espa without him, he got a horrible nagging feeling that wouldn’t leave him alone. It was like a massive weight of dark matter pressing against his heart, trying to blacken it. It was painful and he couldn’t help but think that it was Obi-Wan who was being tortured.

So, the speeder bike came to an idling halt in the vast, open desert, making them perfect targets for Sand People.

“Ani? What are you doing?” Padmé asked, concerned.

Anakin gripped the bars of the speeder bike. “We have to go back.”

Padmé stared at Anakin, her mouth agape. “You heard what Obi-Wan said,” she reminded him. “He wanted us to go.”

“I can’t leave him there! Not with that… monster trying to kill him!” Anakin fought back the anger that was rising to the surface. Anger would not help in their situation. He needed a clear head. To think of a solution rather than the problem. That’s what Obi-Wan always taught him. “I have to go back. I can drop you and the generator off, but I’m going back for Obi-Wan,” he decided and he wasn’t going to change his mind. “He may have lied to me, but he’s the last family I have left. I’m not going to lose him.”

Padmé sat in silence, pondering over the decision, before nodding. “All right,” she said. “We’ll go together.”

Anakin whipped his head around to stare at Padmé. “No! I can’t endanger your life!”

“We’re in this together Ani,” Padmé said, undeterred. “Now, turn the bike around and let’s save Obi-Wan.”

Anakin’s admiration for Padmé grew exponentially. He grinned and did as instructed. He guided the speeder bike in a half-circle before hitting on the accelerator back to Mos Espa.

* * *

The woman prowled in front of Obi-Wan like a wild beast, sizing him up. They had just managed to separate themselves again, taking stock of their enemy to figure the next plan of attack. Obi-Wan knew his best chance was to get her to fall down the gap to make his escape. But the woman had no interests in heading in that direction, which meant Obi-Wan would have to alter his plan.

To change up the fight, Obi-Wan struck first. His blade nearly caught her wrist, but she spun out of the way and tried to slice his back. Obi-Wan countered it with his own blade, pushing her aside as he backed away, leading her to their final destination. She followed, stalking him as she raised her two blades to fight. They parried, struck and stabbed each other, each narrowly missing the other. Too close to one another, eyes boring into the other’s eyes that they could see their own haughty reflection. It was a terrible dance. A tango Obi-Wan wanted no part of as he spun out of their lock and managed to sear another part of her outfit. Still the skin wasn’t touched, but it aggravated her nonetheless. Since the fight begun, only Obi-Wan had managed to make those too close of calls. She has yet to singe even a piece of his hair. 

She plowed onward, clashing her lightsabers and pressuring it down into Obi-Wan’s face. The heat resonated against his face and beads of sweat trickled down from his hairline. But, all he saw was her sardonic grin. “This is the end for you, my dear Kenobi,” she said, drinking in the sight of her blade closing in on Obi-Wan’s throat. “You were never a match for me.”

As he neared perpendicular to her, Obi-Wan flashed her a charming smile. “I’m afraid you’re quite right.”

His calm demeanor angered her and right when she readied to decapitate him, Obi-Wan let go. He dropped himself, throwing the woman off balance. Gaining her momentum, Obi-Wan snatched her wrists and threw her over himself. He heard her shriek just as Obi-Wan leapt back onto his two feet. He spun around, lightsaber ignited again and raised for defense. The woman was sprawled on the rooftop.

The corners of Obi-Wan’s lips twitched upwards. “Lose your footing, _my dear_?" 

His condescending words rallied her back to her feet. She madly charged again, throwing away all her focus and just running in sheer hatred at him. Obi-Wan took that opportunity to raise his hand up and Force-shove her another few meters away from him. She toppled and flopped on her back, groaning from the shooting pains along her spine. Obi-Wan stepped forward, blade twirling in his hand. "It seems you know me far more than I know you,” he said. “Which disturbs me since I enjoy my privacy. Tell me again—who are you?”

The woman snarled as she pushed herself back up. There was a small cut on her lip, a tiny blood dome forming. She must have bit her lip in the fall. “I am your worst nightmare!” she screamed and she tried to attack again, but her blind rage made her a mess. 

It was a flurry of vicious strikes, unrelenting and merciless in her drive to kill him. Obi-Wan kept up, but he knew eventually, one of them was going to tire out and that meant death. Obi-Wan glided himself across the rooftop, pushed near the ledge. He knew the woman’s goal. She wanted him to fall just as he planned earlier. But, Obi-Wan was not going to fall for that trick. He kept a steady balance, dodging and jumping out of the woman’s slashes. 

Then, that is when his ears rang in a joyous thunder. A growling sound of a speeder bike was approaching and when he managed to get time to take a glance, he saw it was Anakin and Padmé coming back for him. 

For Force’s sake! He screamed internally. I told them to go!

Obi-Wan parried off the woman’s latest attempt to cut of his head. For some reason, she was invested in decapitating him. It was an odd fetish to have when killing an enemy. As Obi-Wan moved to distract her from the bike, he heard Anakin’s words in his head. 

_Obi-Wan! Jump on the bike!_

Obi-Wan huffed.  _Anakin, I told you to go! Not to come back! Now, go! Leave me!_

_I’m not leaving you behind!_

_Anakin!_

_Jump when we come alongside!_

And Anakin closed his bond. Obi-Wan resigned to it and elbowed the woman’s blade away from him as he counter-struck her blow near his shoulder. They battled, the woman closed the world around her except him. Obi-Wan stayed on the ledge, preparing to make his jump. He caught sight of the speeder running alongside the dwellings. He had about ten seconds.

The woman kept up with her ammunition. Her blades spun in a fantastic, deadly show. Obi-Wan swung and parried both attacks and managed to move quick enough to stop her from cutting his leg open. He had six seconds.

She roared and charged, but Obi-Wan held firm. Each strike was deflected and all the anger in her was flickering. She was losing strength, but that didn’t mean her determination was gone. That was still quite alight. He had three seconds.

The woman gave a curdled scream. “Fight me Jedi! Fight!”

Weren’t they fighting for the past ten minutes? Obi-Wan cared to not argue with her. It was time for him to leave. He looked and saw Anakin riding up and it was time to say goodbye. With a perfect moment, Obi-Wan flicked his wrist and caused the woman to fly backwards, landing uncomfortably hard on her butt. Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber. “This has been quite the experience, my dear, but I am afraid I need to make my departure.”

Obi-Wan bowed and then took the leap of faith. He fell, rushing to the ground when the speeder zoomed in the nick of time. He landed on the generator, right next to Artoo-Detoo, who chirped in glee at his landing. Obi-Wan gave him a tight smile as he clambered up. 

That is when he saw the shadow coming down on him. 

He turned around to see that the woman made the same leap and landed just at the edge of their cargo. Her balance was wobbly and she threw her arms out to stabilize herself. Obi-Wan heard Padmé shout to him, but he didn’t know what she said. Obi-Wan scrambled up to his feet and before the woman could continue the fight, he gave one solid kick to her stomach.  

With no hold, the woman flew off the cargo and sputtered out into the sand dunes, whipping up a small sand storm in her wake. Obi-Wan stayed where he was for a minute as he watched to ensure there was no more trouble. Once he believed the threat was subdued, he climbed over the generator and protocol droid to sit in the very back seat behind Padmé. Both she and Anakin turned to him.

“Who was that?” Anakin asked, worried.

Obi-Wan shook his head and shrugged. “I have no idea,” he checked over his shoulders. Mos Espa was no longer visible. “Whoever she was, she’ll come back. We’ll need to quickly fix the generator and get going.”

They agreed and Anakin slammed up on the accelerator. The wind whipped around them and Obi-Wan’s ears rang to the sounds of harsh winds and speckled sand. He kept his head down and mouth closed to avoid the sand getting in his eyes and mouth. He listened to the humming of the engines as he thought back to his attacker. The woman was well-trained and her hatred for him was pure. But, what he couldn’t get out of his head were her two curved lightsabers. He’s only ever seen one curved lightsaber in his life. 

He wondered… did his former master and grandmaster sent her to kill them?

“Uh, oh,” Anakin mumbled and he yelled over his shoulder. “Obi-Wan! We have company!”

Obi-Wan lifted his head to see the Nubian ship. It was still stranded in the exact place they left it. The silver covering of the ship giving a blinding reflection of the twin suns. What wasn’t there when they departed two days ago was a smaller ship with grey coverings and the size of a small transportation ship. Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber. He wasn’t going to underestimate any more surprises. 

Anakin craned his head back as the speeder slowed. “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan didn’t sense any danger. Not yet. “Park the speeder up there,” Obi-Wan pointed to a small distance from the ship. 

Anakin did as instructed. He pulled the speeder a short distance away from the two ships. Obi-Wan hopped off first. He helped Padmé next, followed by Anakin. “Stay behind me,” he said and they did. After witnessing the previous foe, they thought best to stand behind the person with the only suitable weapon. 

They crept up, their footsteps silent against the soft sand. Padmé pulled out something from her buckle. It was a tiny knife-head that fit comfortably between her fingers. Anakin had a trickle of fear ebbing against the Force, but Obi-Wan reassured him with a quiet resolve. It was going to be fine. 

He didn’t sense any danger. Not like he did with the woman he fought against in Mos Espa. Instead, it was a different feeling. One of light, refreshing and oddly, a warm familiar. 

The sound of heavy footsteps bombarded the open ramp and soon, Obi-Wan was faced with Captain Panaka. 

Who had a blaster aimed at Obi-Wan’s head. 

“Stand down!” Captain Panaka ordered. 

That was certainly a surprising turn of events. Confused, Obi-Wan did nothing but stay in position in front of Anakin and Padmé. “Captain? What is the meaning of this?”

The captain glared. “You’re not a Jedi,” he said. “You’re a criminal and I order you to stand down now!”

Obi-Wan was befuddled. How could Captain Panaka know about his status unless he contacted…

Obi-Wan glanced to the ship again. Oh no. Looking closer, he recognized the design and symbols on the ship. It was an unlucky day for him. First a Sith-like warrior and now the Jedi. He and Anakin couldn’t catch a break since getting involved with Naboo. 

Padmé stepped next to Obi-Wan. Her face was brazen with authority. “Captain Panaka, put your blaster away! There is no need for such force,” she said. “They have done what we’ve asked. They got us our much-needed generator.”

Captain Panaka didn’t remove the blaster. “ Padmé, please step away. For your own safety.”

Padmé did not move. She stayed next to Obi-Wan. “I will not unless you put your blaster away.”

“Yes, Captain Panaka,” came a voice from the ramp. “Blasters leave a terrible mess.”

Unlike Captain Panaka, the Jedi footsteps were quiet almost like they were gliding on air rather than walking on the same hard metal as others. Obi-Wan sucked in a big breath, expecting it to be one of the Sentinels sent to capture him. To his surprise, the person he saw was not who he expected or ever imagine to see again.

“Garen?”

Garen Muln stepped off the ramp and walked around Captain Panaka. He looked almost the same. His dark hair was buzzed short in the traditional style for padawans, but his braid was much longer, going past his shoulder where it rested against his right breast. His eyes were much like Anakin’s. Bright blue with an energetic charge behind those irises that signaled his restlessness for action. Yet, at the moment, they were somber and distant. He wasn’t his usual loose and carefree self. All of his boyish confidence vanished, replaced by a young man burdened with a difficult task and unsure if it could be performed. 

But, Garen was still Garen. He put up a front and smiled at his old friend. “It’s been a long time, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stiffly nodded, still shocked by his old friend’s appearance. “Far more than I have ever liked.”

Garen tilted his head in agreement, but then sighed. “It didn’t have to be,” he said, quietly. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

He did and Obi-Wan side-glanced to Anakin, who studied Garen with a particular distaste of the man. Anakin didn’t trust him. That was no surprise. For him, Jedi and the Sith are the same. Both hunted them and wouldn’t leave them alone in peace. To Anakin, they were both bad despite Obi-Wan’s attempt to teach him otherwise. 

Obi-Wan looked back to Garen and saw that Master Rhara joined him. Her hand rested at her hip. It wasn’t touching the lightsaber that dangled on her belt. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t ignited it in a matter of a second. It was only a warning. Not a threat. 

Obi-Wan politely half-bowed to Master Rhara. “Master.”

His gesture seemed to have surprised and impressed Master Rhara. Obi-Wan withheld his need to growl out that he wasn’t an uncivilized man. He knew when to show respect despite his years from the Temple. 

Master Rhara took in Obi-Wan appearance and then looked down at Anakin, who moved closer into Obi-Wan’s shadow to blend. “Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she finally spoke. “You look far better than I imagined.”

“Then you should have seen me earlier,” Obi-Wan quipped and he looked to Garen. “I guess this isn’t a social call?”

Garen shook his head. “The Council requests your presence.”

“And if I decline?”

Garen only looked at his friend with deflated hope and exasperation. “Don’t make this difficult, Obi-Wan,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Obi-Wan remarked. “I still carry that scar on my arm from Master Sifo-Dyas.”

Master Sifo-Dyas was a famed Jedi Shadow who cornered Obi-Wan and Anakin four years ago. They managed to escape, but Obi-Wan received a burn from Sifo-Dyas’ lightsaber across his arm in the Jedi Shadow’s attempt to cut off his arm. 

“Then let’s not start a fight,” Garen pleaded with his friend. “Especially in front of the Naboo government. There’s no need for bloodshed.”

“Accept your defeat, Kenobi,” Master Rhara added, taking one step closer. “Your days of running are over.”

A spike of fear shifted the balance of the Force. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought the female warrior returned, but then he soon concluded that it came from Anakin. Obi-Wan reached back and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. He gently squeezed it to ensure all was well despite the situation. Garen and Master Rhara were correct in that their days of running were over. There was no place to go. Tatooine’s desert provided no coverage and he wasn't interested in starting a fight with Padmé and Captain Panaka standing there. The possibility of them getting injured was too high. And Anakin. He would also be caught and Obi-Wan couldn’t guarantee his safety if they drew blades. 

There was only one solution. 

Obi-Wan was prepared to surrender to Garen, when Padmé stepped forward confronting the two Jedi. “These two are in my services,” she declared. “You have no authority to arrest them.”

Master Rhara, Garen and Captain Panaka all blinked. Master Rhara gathered her wits the quickest and gave Padmé a small smile. “I’m sorry, but these two fall under the Jedi jurisdiction. Not the Naboo government. And certainly not from a handmaiden.”

Padmé persisted. “I am Padmé Amidala, Queen of Naboo, and I grant Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker sanctuary,” she declared. “If you wish to arrest them, then you must provide the proper documents through the Senate courts to obtain a warrant for their arrest.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin both had the same exact expressions on their faces. They were stunned. Anakin for learning Padmé was actually  _the_ Queen of Naboo and not the simple handmaiden he thought. And for Obi-Wan, he was surprised by her resilience to protect them. Two days in Mos Espa and a near death experience bonded the three of them together far quicker than he’s ever experienced with others. 

To the others, Garen and Master Rhara were dumbfounded. Captain Panaka only looked graved and disappointed in her choice. Everyone was unsure what to do next or how to respond to Padmé’s declaration. They all looked at each other, daring the other to start first. 

In a long moment of silence, Padmé took it as a victory. “Then we will fix our ship and carry on our way,” she concluded. “If you wish to still arrest them, then get your warrant.”

“Y-Your Highness,” Master Rhara started, still startled by the handmaiden’s news of being the actual Queen. “The Jedi is separate from the Republic. We have no obligation to the Senate. Kenobi is convicted of treason against the Jedi Order and is required to face his crimes in front of our High Council. You’re sanctuary status holds no value. This is a Jedi matter. Not a Republic matter.”

Padmé bore up at Master Rhara, her brown eyes narrowed in challenge. “I will not let you arrest them,” she declared. “If you insist in arresting them now, I will file a complaint in the Senate about the Jedi Order’s blatant disrespect and needling into political matters. I’m sure that will gather some unwanted attention for the Order.”

Master Rhara frowned. “You are a naive girl to place your trust in Kenobi.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Padmé argued, her tone still even and not once raising her voice. “I placed my trust and my life in Kenobi’s hands. And so far, he surpassed everything I expected. He’s done more for our country than the Jedi have." 

Obi-Wan would no longer argue with Padmé about her ability to take care of herself. He and Anakin watched in amazement how Padmé effectively shut down Master Rhara with a few simple words and veiled threats. Anakin only goggled at Padmé. The boy who was now completely infatuated. While the show of defiance was respectable and welcomed, Obi-Wan knew Padmé wasn’t going to win in the end. A quick call to the Council and a word in with the Senate, Obi-Wan and Anakin would be arrested the minute they landed on Coruscant. 

Rather than drag Padmé and Naboo through his scandal, Obi-Wan sacrificed himself. "It’s all right, Padmé.”

Padmé turned. “What?”

“I’ll surrender to them,” Obi-Wan said again.

“You will not!” Padmé murmured angrily. 

Obi-Wan gave her a tiny, hopeful smile. “I’ll be okay, Your Highness,” he said in his best attempt to sound assured. “I won’t let the Order drag you and the rest of Naboo into my problems. This is my fault. My consequences.”

“Obi-Wan—”

“I’m thankful for everything you’ve done,” Obi-Wan said to her. “And I appreciate your loyalty, but you have more important things to focus on. Your planet is in trouble. The people are looking to their Queen to save them. Padmé—let us go. Save your planet. We’ll be okay.”

Padmé wanted to argue. He could tell by the way her mouth went into a straight line. But there was a sadness in her eyes that knew he was right. She looked on with a doleful quietness. “The Naboo will always be your friend,” she finally said, accepting defeat. 

Obi-Wan bowed before her, as one did for royalty. He urged Anakin to do the same. Anakin bowed. When they both rose up, Obi-Wan caught a sliver of a tear leaking out of Anakin’s eyes. 

It was indeed a sad day. They had finally been captured. 

Obi-Wan moved around Padmé and surrendered his lightsaber to Garen. “I trust you to take care of it,” he said to his old friend. 

Garen accepted the lightsaber. “I’m sorry it has come to this.”

“Not as sorry as I am.”

Master Rhara revealed a pair of Force-negative binders and passed them to Garen. With heartache, Garen locked the binders on Obi-Wan’s wrists. Next, Anakin sniffled as Garen moved to collect him. Anakin jerked away, running back to Padmé. “Padmé!”

Padmé struggled to breathe for a moment from Anakin’s abrupt departure from Obi-Wan. But she composed herself and addressed him. “Yes, Ani?”

Obi-Wan first thought Anakin wanted to go with her. To take up her sanctuary, but then Obi-Wan saw Anakin pull out his mother’s bracelet and place it in Padmé’s hand. “I want you to have this.”

Padmé blankly stared. “Oh Ani… I can’t accept this.”

“Please!” Anakin begged her. “The Jedi will take it away from me and I want you to have something to remind you of me.”

Padmé stayed composed, but her Force signature was wavering. A flight of emotions overcoming her. She slowly closed her hand around the bracelet. “Then I shall treasure it forever,” she said. “I am glad to have met you Anakin.”

“I’m glad to have met you too.”

They stared at each other a little longer, Anakin trying to memorize every detail of her until Garen snuck behind him and placed him in similar binders. Obi-Wan and Anakin were lead away from the Padmé and Captain Panaka and up the grey ship’s ramp.

“OBI-WAN! ANAKIN!”

They both turned to see Padmé again. “May the Force be with you,” she said to them. 

That got both Obi-Wan and Anakin to smile. “May the Force be with you as well,” Obi-Wan replied.

Master Rhara pressured Obi-Wan to continue walking. Obi-Wan and Anakin ascended into the dark, cool interior of the ship before they were directed into a cell block that looked similar to the one Qui-Gon put Obi-Wan in on Ithor. Garen was nice enough to put him and Anakin together. Once they were both inside the cell, he raised the shields and Obi-Wan and Anakin found themselves in Jedi custody. 

Garen walked, but stopped briefly to say one last parting statement. “I am truly sorry it has come to this Obi-Wan.”

“Ease your conscious, Garen,” Obi-Wan said as he made sure Anakin was buckled. “I do not have any vindictive feelings toward you. You perform your duty and I shall perform mine.”

Garen was thankful. He gave a small head salute to Obi-Wan, like they used to do as younglings and left the cells. Silence ruled the cell block as Obi-Wan and Anakin sat as prisoners, contemplating what the Council planned for them upon arrival.

None of scenarios looked good. Especially when Obi-Wan dreaded the idea of seeing Qui-Gon and Dooku once again. 

About thirty minutes later, there was a rumble and a short hiss. They were taking off and in a matter of a couple days, Obi-Wan and Anakin would find themselves in a whole new type of dangerous terrain. 

The Jedi Order.


	9. Don't Look Back

Dooku critically studied the holo-image of his latest failure. Ventress stood as straight as her cowering figure allowed. The ends of her outfit were ripped in ribbons, revealing pale legs. There seemed to be no flesh damage. Just cloth. 

Still, the anger simmered underneath the surface of Dooku’s impassive face. The Force surrounding him toiled in the irritation that arose as he listened to Ventress' image ranted out excuses. 

“Master! He was a coward,” Ventress hissed, the muscles in her face constricting to a feral growl. “Weak and pathetic. He chose to run than fight!”

Dooku exhaled deeply through his nose. His demeanor darkened as he leered at her ruined outfit, a skeptical brow rising. “If be the case, then why are your clothes ripped by what appears to be from a lightsaber?”

Ventress’s fingers curled as she snarled. “He defended himself, but he still chose to run! Coward!”

Dooku clicked his tongue in distaste at her excuses. He grew bored. “Or you allowed him to run because of your negligence,” he accused, clipping his hands behind his back. “You disappoint me. You were such a promising apprentice.”

That brought a surge of vexation. “I am! I can defeat Kenobi!”

“Yet you didn’t,” Dooku pointed, vehemently. “You are being taken off the mission.”

“Master! No—”

Dooku didn’t wait to hear any more false promises. He ended the transmission and released a frustrating sigh. He despised incompetence, but hated petty quibble. She failed. Kenobi succeeded. It was as simple as that. He needed no excuses or explanation. The outcome told him everything. “I give you credit, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said and he turned to see Qui-Gon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. His old padawan had listened to the whole conversation. “You trained the boy well.”

Qui-Gon didn’t smile at the rare compliment. He was perturbed, which surprised Dooku. He thought Qui-Gon would be pleased to hear that Kenobi survived. Instead his old padawan was focused, eyebrows furrowed in severe contemplation.

“I thought you would be more happy,” Dooku commented and Qui-Gon’s eyes slid to Dooku.

“Happy? No, Proud? Yes, but happy? No,” Qui-Gon relayed. “That means the Jedi got them.”

“He could have escaped. They didn’t send Sentinels.”

“Exactly. They sent Garen Muln. Obi-Wan won’t fight his friend. He’s… sentimental that way.”

Thinking back, there was merit to Qui-Gon’s observation. Obi-Wan identified himself as a strict rule-follower Jedi. He often debated with his master on decisions that went against the Council’s wishes and Jedi code. But, from simple, yet brief observations, Dooku noted that the boy suffered from emotions. It was subtle differences. The way his eyes shone when helping someone he cared or how his jawline protruded when angered. Signs that all pointed to emotional compromised. On people or ideas he believed in, Obi-Wan got himself deeply involved to the point it was quite easy to see the emotional attachment without Force probing.

Dooku lifted his shoulders, nonchalantly. “Be as it may, that is still a victory for us.”

Qui-Gon quizzically stated at Dooku. “Them being in the Jedi custody is a victory?”

“You’ve forgotten, my old padawan,” Dooku said, walking over to Qui-Gon. “The Jedi are bringing them here to the Temple. To us.” A spark of hope resonated in Qui-Gon’s eye. “Give me some credit, Qui-Gon. I’ve made the proper arrangements in case this situation occurred.”

Qui-Gon became intrigued. “Did you? Already you placed little faith in your apprentice.”

“She’s not my apprentice. Only a disciple,” Dooku corrected, stopping short so he could fix himself a glass of Corellia’s finest wine. “As for faith? I have faith that I would be disappointed. Unlike yourself, I like to plan ahead." Dooku took a whiff from his glass before he tipped it. The warm and smooth taste soothed his throat. A fine glass of vintage wine. Dooku lowered his glass, looking over the rims to Qui-Gon. "Everything is under control.”

“How?" Qui-Gon challenged, still doubting Dooku's capability to perform the impossible. Even after all these years. "They are going to be in the vicinity of hundreds of Jedi! How are we going to sneak them out under the Council’s eye?”

Dooku smoothed out his cape, running his hand from his shoulder to his arm. “You forget again, Qui-Gon. While the Temple may look like a fortress on the outside, it is not,” he reminded Qui-Gon. “There are many ways to get passed the Temple Guards and sneak out items from the Council’s watch. As I said, it’s all under control for now.”

That got an approving nod from Qui-Gon, though he frowned at the thought of the situation. Nonetheless, Qui-Gon asked the last imposing question in his mind, “Has the Council received word of their arrival?”

“I’m afraid not,” Dooku informed him and he took another drink of his wine. “It appears Master Yoda and Mace are the only Councilors handling it with the addition of Shadow assistance.” Dooku studied his old padawan over his glass. “You wish to be there when they arrive? Qui-Gon… I suggest you restrain yourself. They’ll be in our custody soon enough.”

Qui-Gon drew out a long, overdued sigh. “You’re right. I can’t risk Yoda or Mace questioning me,” he removed himself from the doorway. “What exactly are your plans in regards to Obi-Wan and Anakin?”

Dooku offered only a sly smile as he turned to the window. “That, my friend, will be a surprise.”

* * *

The trip in space was dreary. Anakin scrunched himself into Obi-Wan’s side as his fingers kept tinkering with the binders, hoping to find a weak point to free himself. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan meditated to his best ability, but his anxieties kept him unhinged. There were many possible outcomes upon their arrival in Coruscant. The most obvious was the Council would deem him as a traitor and lock him in the cells far below the Temple. But, his concerns didn’t rest with his future. It was Anakin’s that he was most concerned. He didn’t know what would happen to the boy. Would the Council still accept him as a member despite his older age? Would they leave him at an orphanage if they find him to be far too old to become a Jedi? In either case, Anakin would be on his own.

Anakin hadn’t said a word since Garen locked them up. He stayed close, but otherwise said nothing. The Force-negated binders kept Obi-Wan from assessing Anakin through their bond, leaving Obi-Wan to rely only on facial expressions. And from what he observed, Anakin looked like a defeated youngling. Obi-Wan blamed himself for their predicament. Perhaps he should have pleaded with Garen and Master Rhara to let Anakin stay with Padmé and the rest of the Naboo entourage. Begged them to only take him into custody and not Anakin. However, he doubted they would obliged. From their years of Jedi encounters, Obi-Wan learned the arrest was for both of them. 

The door to the cell opened and both he and Anakin sat upright to stare into the eyes of their jailer. The darkly handsome man entered, carrying food rations in his hand. He shut down the Force field and passed the rations through the bars. “It’s not a lot, but it’s what we have,” Garen explained as Obi-Wan went to pick both of them up. 

Obi-Wan thanked him and gave one to Anakin. “It’s much appreciated,” he said to his old friend. “You have no need to worry about our taste. We hardly dined on exquisite meals.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed seeing as you were with a Queen.”

Obi-Wan paused in helping Anakin unwrap the ration bar. “Our interaction with the Queen was limited,” he decided as Anakin glared at Garen. “We only met her three days ago.”

“And yet she defended you and was ready to fight the Jedi Order,” Garen remarked, assessing Obi-Wan with suspicion. “You must have made quite the impressive in that short period of time.”

Obi-Wan eyed his old friend carefully. “It appears so.”

“Then again, you always had a thing for royalty.”

Obi-Wan glared at Garen’s flippant retort about not only Padmé, but also Satine. “Thank you for the food, Garen,” he said with finality, effectively ending that particular discussion. He had no desire to dishonor either Padmé’s or Satine’s name.

Garen gave a nod, accepting that he may have crossed a line. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t leave. Instead he stayed, fingers twitching and his eyes looking everywhere but at Obi-Wan. A deep frowned darkened his normally easy mien. Something bothered the Jedi Padawan to a great extent and it appeared he believed Obi-Wan to hold the key to his release of such torture. 

“Say it, Garen,” Obi-Wan finally said, bored somewhat at the Jedi’s anxieties. But, more so he wanted to end his friend’s suffering.

Garen’s eyes flashed up to him. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Then why are you still here?” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You want to say it. Go ahead.”

It looked to be that Garen would refuse, but that slight hesitation was a falsehood. “How could you do this?” he asked, his words tainted with smothered frustration and betrayal. “For years, I spent trying to understand it from your point of view, but… do you even realize what you did?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I do.”

Garen shook his head fervently. “No… no, I don’t think you do. Because of you, Masters were questioning their padawan’s loyalties. Because of you, promising initiates were not accepted by Masters. Because of you, padawans like myself had to work extra hard to prove to everyone that we weren’t like you!”

Garen roughed his hands over his face. “The first few years, I thought that it was all just a big misunderstanding. You loved the Jedi Order. Always wanted to be a Jedi Knight. So, when you ran off, I thought—no, that’s not it—I  _forced_  myself to believe it was because you were taken. But then reports came in and it was like I never knew you at all.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened at hearing his friend’s doubt. “Garen—you do know me!”

Garen denied the statement with a rigorous shake of his head. “No, I don’t. My friend wouldn’t have turned his back on us. Turned bad,” he said, breathing heavier. "I don’t know who you are anymore.“

It was the first time Obi-Wan ever regretted his decision to run. He thought his friends would still have faith in him. That he could call upon them in great time of need, but witnessing Garen’s private rebuke gave Obi-Wan an overwhelming sorrow. He miscalculated. He had hoped to still have his friends despite what happened. He trusted that their friendship in their younger years would still hold, but it eroded under falsehoods and miscommunication. Did everyone think like that of him? Did Reeft? Siri? Even sweet Bant believe he was far gone? He prayed to the Force that not everyone stopped believing him.

Garen waited for a response—or a denial—but Obi-Wan only offered what he could. "I’m sorry.”

It was true. He was sorry for everything that ruined them. 

Garen huffed. “I wish I could believe you,” he said and Obi-Wan could tell that despite the cool exterior, Garen truly wished he could believe in him again. “I have to get back to my master. She might believe you did something to me if I don’t return.”

Obi-Wan watched his old friend disappear behind the door and the Force field energy surrounded him and Anakin once again.

“He’s wrong.”

Obi-Wan glanced down to Anakin. He had nibbled at the ration bar, but it seemed Anakin’s normally huge appetite was gone. Anakin leaned over his scrunched knees, head craned back to look up at Obi-Wan. “You’re not a bad person.”

“Depends,” Obi-Wan said, turning over his own ration bar. “To the Jedi Order, I betrayed them.”

“By leaving?”

“By leaving and taking you with me,” Obi-Wan corrected, still not opening his ration bar. “In their minds, I’m a criminal. At least, that is probably how my old master twisted it when he reported us missing.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as a scary thought came to mind. “Wait… will he be there?”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened again at the thought of being under Qui-Gon’s and Dooku’s eyes once more. “Y-Yes. They will most likely be there.”

“What are we going to do?” Anakin asked, suddenly impatient and energized. “We can’t go back to them. We can’t!”

Obi-Wan was well aware that they could not be captured by Qui-Gon or Dooku. Luckily, they were heading to the Jedi Temple where there was some amount of protection despite the two being amongst the Jedi. “Ease your worries, Anakin,” he told the young boy. “We’ll be fine. The Order provides us with some protection. They won’t dare steal us under their watchful eye.”

“But, we’ll still be in Jedi custody,” Anakin said with a groan, falling against the wall. “We should have gone with Padmé. She would have kept us safe.”

“Not for very long,” Obi-Wan replied, wondering how the Naboo were doing with their own arduous problem. “Besides, we couldn’t get her involved with our problems when she has her own. Her planet and people need her. We can solve our situation on our own without adding it onto her list.”

Anakin sighed, agreeing with a small nod. Then he scooted closer to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan felt the cold touch of Anakin’s skin. “Are you okay?” Obi-Wan asked as he lifted his cuffed arms to hold Anakin close. 

Anakin shook his head. “I’m afraid that something bad is going to happen.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reassured him the best he could. “Release your anxieties into the Force. Worrying about a possibility is suffering twice. So, let it go and focus on the moment. We’re still together.”

“But—”

“Focus Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated again. “Enjoy the moment we have now.”

Anakin said nothing. He laid his head against Obi-Wan’s side, eyes dead straight ahead. Obi-Wan still held him, afraid what would happen if he let go. He could only protect Anakin until they landed. And once they land, Obi-Wan didn’t know what would happen, but until then, he could keep Anakin safe in his arms.

* * *

Obi-Wan knew of their arrival onto Coruscant when the ship gave a stuttered and a small thump as the antigrav clamps locked on the hangar surface. Anakin shot up, eyes alert and unsure. Obi-Wan smiled warmly in hopes to relax the boy, but it didn’t help. Anakin was a bundle of nerves, so when Garen came back to release them, he flinched away from the Jedi Padawan. Obi-Wan had to hold onto Anakin’s shoulder to keep him from retreating further back into the cell. 

“Stay close to me,” Obi-Wan whispered to Anakin, “and follow my lead.”

Anakin gave a numbing nod. He stayed close as Garen led them from the cells to the top of the ramp. The ramp slowly lowered and Obi-Wan caught site of the stone and metal floorings that belonged to the Temple’s structure. Master Rhara was with them and she ordered Garen to follow out last as she took the lead. Obi-Wan looked down to check on Anakin’s whereabouts. Anakin was still with him, fidgeting in anticipation. 

Master Rhara gestured Obi-Wan to follow and he obliged. He walked down the ramp, a second behind Master Rhara as respected in tradition. When he arrived at the bottom and took in his surroundings, he found that the hangar was sparse with the exception of a few selected individuals. Master Yoda and Master Windu stood a few meters ahead, eyes locked on him and scrutinizing where he stood. Or at least, Master Windu was. 

Master Yoda was different. He looked the same as Obi-Wan remembered last. Short, green, with wisps of white hair behind his ears and a hundred years of wisdom mirroring in those brown eyes, but his posture tuned more of a being with relief and pity. Not someone who was skeptical and disappointed. He leaned on his gimer stick as he watched Obi-Wan and Anakin descend the ramp, eyes flickering from one to the other. 

Anakin, meanwhile, was too fascinated by the surroundings to notice the Jedi. Obi-Wan had forgotten he’s never seen a city planet before and the likes of Coruscant’s landscapes was unique. The boy let out gasps of wonder, stopping at the very edge of the ramp for a split second to marvel at the skyscrapers, the rows upon rows of traffic and lack of any green as far as the horizon. It was only until Garen reached the bottom that Anakin moved again, joining Obi-Wan at his hip and studying the Jedi that awaited them. 

They arrived to where the two Jedi Councilors stood and Master Rhara bowed before them. “Masters, it’s good to see you both. As instructed, we returned with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker,” she said as she stepped aside to reveal them to the Councilors. “Their bindings are holding well.”

“Excellent job, Master Rhara and Padawan Muln,” Mace Windu’s hard tone said before he gave a critical eye over Obi-Wan. “I would say welcome home, but you forsaken it as your home a long time ago.”

Obi-Wan gave a respectable, but clipped bow. “Master Windu—time has not changed you at all. Master Yoda,” he replied to Yoda before nudging Anakin to do the same. The boy bowed too, but eyes were curiously gazing at Master Yoda. “It’s good to see you are both doing well these past few years.”

Master Windu scowled, but Master Yoda smiled. “Good to see you again, is it, Obi-Wan. Been a long time, it is. Yes, hmmm?”

Obi-Wan concurred. “Far too long, I’m afraid,” he said and he turned to Anakin. “Let me introduce you to Anakin. Anakin? This is Master Yoda and Master Mace Windu of the Jedi High Council. Master Yoda and Master Windu, meet Anakin Skywalker.”

Master Windu only glared at the boy with a calculating suspicion. Master Yoda totted closer, peering at the boy’s face with utmost interest. “Good to meet you, is it, Anakin,” he said to Anakin, who only stared wordlessly at the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. “Quiet you are. Be afraid, do not. Bring you any harm Master Yoda will not.”

A crease formed between Anakin’s eyebrows that doubted Master Yoda’s promise. Obi-Wan quickly took over the conversation. “He’s okay. Just getting accustomed to his surroundings,” he explained to the Master. “It’s been quite an adventure for us this past week.”

“For the past seven years,” Master Windu corrected in his deep, baritone tone, “which we need to proceed.” Master Windu signaled for someone behind him. A group of four Jedi Temple Guards along with Jedi Shadow Master Sifo-Dyas melted out of the shadow's edge and surrounded Obi-Wan. “As you are aware, Obi-Wan, what you did was a crime against the Order. You are hereby arrested for treason and will be trialed for such crime. You will be given a hearing. If needed, you may request for representation on your behalf.”

Obi-Wan looked from one Temple Guard to the other, all eyeing their yellow, lightsaber pikes. There was no escape. He turned to Master Windu. “I understand.”

“Good,” Master Windu said and then he looked to Master Sifo-Dyas. “Deliver him to the detention center.”

Master Sifo-Dyas accepted the command and instructed the Temple Guards to secure Obi-Wan. Two grabbed his triceps and forced him to walk toward the far left exit. What Obi-Wan immediately noticed was that they left Anakin untouched. As per instructions, Anakin was ready to follow Obi-Wan when another Jedi blocked him. 

“Oh no, young one,” said the gentle cooing of Vokara Che. A blue, Twi’lek Jedi Healer that seemed to have also come from the shadows too. “You’re not going with them.”

Anakin stared, appalled. He moved to follow again, but Healer Che stopped him by taking his arm. “No youngling,” she said again. “You are to come with us. We’ll get you situated.”

Anakin glanced to Obi-Wan, watching him be removed, and the panic finally overcame him. He controlled it the best he could, but Obi-Wan realized that his departure was depleting Anakin of any sense of safety and fear suddenly kicked into gear. “Obi-Wan!” Anakin called out to him. 

Obi-Wan marched onward, the Temple Guards ensuring he kept moving. Master Sifo-Dyas challenged him to resist through his dark, penetrating eyes. To avoid initiating a riot, Obi-Wan ignored Anakin’s call, best to not to look back in case he did something foolish.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin’s cry crippled Obi-Wan’s heart, but he still did not dare to look back. He couldn’t let Anakin see him like this. “Obi-Wan!”

He heard the struggle. Anakin was resisting Vokara Che’s hold on him. He kept crying back to Obi-Wan as he refused to follow Vokara Che. “No! Nooo,” Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s reply as Vokara Che kept insisting to not resist. “No! Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan faltered in his steps. Anakin’s pain was insistent and his connection to the Force only empowered the bond. The Force-negate binders were no match to Anakin’s power and Obi-Wan felt every inch of fear and pain radiating from Anakin. The boy was scared, panicking into a corner. 

“Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan stopped, causing the Temple Guards to shove him onward. Obi-Wan held his ground and he looked to Master Sifo-Dyas. “I have to talk to Anakin,” he pleaded with Master Sifo-Dyas. “Please—it will only take a minute.”

“The answer is no,” Master Sifo-Dyas stated. “He’ll be cared for in your absence.”

“No—you don’t understand.”

Master Sifo-Dyas heard no more. He signaled the Temple Guards to force Obi-Wan to move. The same two guards grabbed his arms and dragged him away. Anakin’s cries blared in his ears as the Force rippled in distress. A warning. The waves within the Force were rolling, strengthening and threatening. Obi-Wan craned his neck over his shoulder to find Anakin struggling in a Force grip. The boy tried to twist it out, his eyes rolled to the far corners to look at Obi-Wan. 

“ _Obi-Wan!_ ”

Anakin was frantic and terrified. The Force reacted to Anakin’s heightened emotions that Obi-Wan sensed it cracking. Knowing Master Sifo-Dyas wasn’t going to stop, Obi-Wan called out to Vokara Che. “Stop! Don't—” Obi-Wan stumbled as the Temple Guards jerked him. He dug his boots into the floor as he yelled behind him. “You’re frightening him!”

The cracks were growing larger. The Force churning and rumbling in every cry from Anakin. Did no one else feel it? It seemed not and Obi-Wan knew that an explosion was inevitable. Obi-Wan kicked up, shoving his shoulders into the Temple Guards to escape to reach Anakin. Master Sifo-Dyas ignited his lightsaber to put an end to Obi-Wan's crude fight, but one of the Temple Guards managed to strike his pike against Obi-Wan’s ribs. Obi-Wan cried out and recoiled from the pain that revolted him. 

And Obi-Wan’s pain was the final straw. 

“ _Obi-Wan!_ ” Anakin cried. He twisted around and screamed. “NO!”

The Force erupted and everyone in the vicinity felt it. Those closest to Anakin  were thrown aside. Vokara Che flew across the small hangar along with Garen and Master Rhara, landing in dead heaps. Master Yoda and Master Windu managed to hold their position, but they stumbled backwards from the onslaught. The Temple Guards stopped in their assault along with Master Sifo-Dyas, who all turned to look at Anakin in massive surprise.

Anakin was free and he ran, but not away.

He ran straight to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan took the advantage of the Temple Guards and Master Sifo-Dyas’s distraction and got out of their grasps. He met Anakin half-way, dropping to his knees in front of the boy. At first look, Anakin was sobbing freely. He clung onto Obi-Wan, shaking physically and emotionally. Obi-Wan held him for a moment, comforting him and sending warmth through their bond. Once Anakin stopped shaking, Obi-Wan pushed him back to examine him. Anakin’s face was streaked in tears, his breathing hitched as he choked his words.

“Let’s run,” Anakin pleaded. “Please! Let’s just go.”

It would be pointless to run. Obi-Wan knew that and so did Anakin, but the boy clutched desperately for a miracle. A miracle they would not be blessed with today. “Anakin...  Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated to get the boy’s attention. “We can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because my consequences have caught up to me,” Obi-Wan quietly said as he held onto Anakin’s hands. “I’m so sorry to have dragged you through all of this. You never deserved any of this. If I could do anything to change it, I would.”

Anakin swallowed his tears, running his sleeve underneath his nose. “W-What will happen now?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have a straight answer for him. He didn’t have one on the shuttle and he didn’t have one now. “I don’t know, but we’ll take it one step at a time,” Obi-Wan decided to answer, giving Anakin a smile to cast away any fears. “Like we always do.”

But it didn’t remove away all of Anakin’s fears. “What if I don’t ever see you again?" Anakin mumbled in quiet desperation. "I don’t want to lose you like I lost Mom.”

And that was the one fear that hit Anakin at his core. The reason for his outburst and tearing desperation to not let Obi-Wan out of his sight. It was not surprising for Anakin to have that fear. Not after what he learned on Tatooine.

Anakin shifted on his feet, his fingers squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand in a tight grip. He need confirmation. To hear Obi-Wan tell him his worries were unfounded and that they would see each other all the time. To swear to Anakin that he would never lose him would be an empty promise. Obi-Wan couldn’t make promises like that. Not those promises. 

Instead, he did what he could for Anakin. “What does the Force tell you?”

Anakin shook his head doubtfully, unsure to trust any feeling. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Obi-Wan encouraged. “Don’t concentrate too hard, Anakin. Just… what does your heart tell you?”

Anakin scrunched up his face in uncertainty. “Yes… I guess.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Me too,” he said and he looked over Anakin’s shoulder.

To his quiet surprise, he caught sight of a very old friend. Bant stood beside Vokara Che, watching their exchange. She had changed. No longer that small Mon Calamari he remembered, but a taller and more confident padawan. She was dressed in healer robes rather than the typical Jedi robes. She turned to the arts of healing instead of a Jedi warrior. And that would work well for Obi-Wan’s plan. 

Obi-Wan focused back on Anakin, still somber. Anakin stopped crying and wiped away the dampness from his eyes. Obi-Wan waited until Anakin got his bearings before he spoke again. “I have a friend here, Anakin,” he said. “A very good friend. Her name is Bant and she’ll take very good care of you until we see each other again.”

Anakin took a deep breath to steady himself. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You have to,” Obi-Wan insisted, squeezing his arms. “I’ll be fine. I promise! Remember, even if I’m not beside you,” Obi-Wan pointed a finger to where Anakin’s heart beat hard against his small chest, “I’ll still be with you here. Okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, looking unsure of himself before he nodded. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into an embrace. A last parting comfort for him. “I need you to go with Bant now.” Obi-Wan said as he gestured for Bant to come over. Bant looked nervously at the other Masters, but once she received compliance from Master Yoda, she walked to the duo. Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin's ear. “Be brave and don’t look back.”

Obi-Wan parted from Anakin. He remained kneeling on the ground as he turned Anakin around so that he met Bant. Obi-Wan’s friend smiled at him and he felt Anakin go rigid. But, Anakin had to go. Obi-Wan gently pushed Anakin toward Bant. “Don’t look back," he reiterated. 

Anakin didn’t move at first, but another nudge in the Force, Anakin took a few determined steps closer to Bant. The Mon Calamari waited. She didn’t rush to him. She was patient and kept the kind smile on her face as Anakin took tiny steps toward her. Obi-Wan watched, quietly urging Anakin to keep going. A few times he saw Anakin hesitate and nearly turn to look back, but Obi-Wan called out to him. “You’re doing great, Anakin. Keep going,” he muttered to motivate Anakin. “Don’t look back.”

It took some time, but Anakin finally met up with Bant. The Mon Calamari squatted down and held out her hand. “I’m Bant Eerin,” she said. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan watched the briefing in tense anticipation, but Bant did well. Anakin wasn’t afraid. Sad, but not afraid. After introductions, Bant escorted Anakin away from the hangar with Vokara Che leading. As they exited, Bant looked back to Obi-Wan, her round eyes mixed with feelings of sympathy and pity. Obi-Wan returned with a kind smile and mouthing ‘thank you’ to her. Bant tipped her head in honor. 

Behind him, he heard the march of the Temple Guards running to collect him. They must have been held off by either Master Yoda or Master Windu. Obi-Wan rose to his feet, surrendering. “I’m ready to go now,” he told Master Sifo-Dyas who still had his lightsaber in his hand.

Master Sifo-Dyas ordered the Temple Guards to remove him to the detention centers. Obi-Wan went quietly, still wearing his Force-negate binders. As he walked away, he passed Master Yoda.

The Grandmaster watched him with sharp evaluations, but not in the manner that criticized him. There was something behind Master Yoda’s eyes that gave Obi-Wan a funny feeling. He didn’t know what exactly, but Obi-Wan thought he saw Master Yoda looked relieved and disturbed. But the disturbance didn’t seem directed at him. Another disturbance conflicted Master Yoda’s thoughts and before Obi-Wan could take a second look, he was ushered out of the hangar and into a turbolift that dropped him deep below the Temple. 


	10. Talking in Circles

Obi-Wan never felt so sick in his entire life. 

He was delirious and weak. The Force evaporated from him and he became an empty shell. He’s never gone for so long without the Force. He always shared its comforts as it surrounded and flowed through him. It was a part of him like… like his sense of smell, taste and sight. Being deprived of the Force was half-living. He couldn’t keep this up. A few more days down in the detention center, he would be nothing more than a corpse. 

In all of his life growing up in the Temple, he never realized these cells existed. As younglings, he and his clanmates teased the existence of such cells, but no one believed them to actually exist. And now, Obi-Wan found himself submerged so far underground that he doubt any yells would be heard from above. All that kept him company was his paranoia and silence. 

When he was brought to the front of the Council after spending one day in the cells, Obi-Wan no longer felt anything but solid relief. The Force returned, coursing through him like blood pulsing through a reopened vein. He breathed deeply, happy to stretch out even the limited access of the Force he was granted by the Councilors. The Force binders remained latched onto his wrist to keep his Force powers in check, but he was too grateful to complain about the unnecessary security. He gluttonously drank the Force, never wanting it to disappear from him ever again.  

He noted that the Councilors all peered at him in different perspectives. Some looked on like he was a dangerous criminal while others viewed him as if he was lost—broken. And then there was one, who looked at him with mockery and superiority that it took Obi-Wan all his strength to not yell. Such behaviors belonged to younglings and the uncivilized. 

“Are you listening Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan blinked and found Master Windu’s eyes burrowing into his own. Obi-Wan glanced down for a quick second before recomposing himself. “Yes, Master,” he replied, politely though his voice sounded brittle. “I understand that since I did not ask for counsel, I am representing myself.”

“Good,” Master Windu deadpanned. The master never expressed any emotion other than cold steel. Master Windu was an unimpressionable being. “Then we can begin.” Master Windu leaned over his seat, eyebrows drawn. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, please explain to the Council, in your own words, why you left the Order.”

An easy question. Not too difficult to answer. Except, the Council wouldn’t believe his answer. They would dissect it into millions of pieces that they would lose the main picture of the reason. Nitpick certain words and condemn him if they choose to interpret it in a different manner than what he meant. Yet, that didn’t stop him from telling the truth. “I left the Order on the commands of the Force to protect Anakin Skywalker.”

“The boy that was being delivered to the Jedi Temple to join as a Jedi Initiate?” asked Master Adi Gallia, a dark-skinned, Tholothian Jedi. 

“His name is Anakin.”

There was small hum from Master Gallia as she began the Council’s dissection. Obi-Wan breathed, drawing as much of the Force he possibly could. It separated the fog in his head, leaving a brightness to dissipate the dark and cold. He could do this. He could engage the Council. He’s fought off Shadows and thugs for seven years. Going up against the Council should be easy. He had done nothing terrible that would sentence him to harsh punishment. Everything would be all right. He only had to tell the truth. The truth would set him free.

“What were your reasons to believe that the boy was in danger?” questioned Master Even Piell, a short, long-eared Jedi Master. 

“The Force told me.”

Master Piell narrowed the question. "How did the Force tell you?“

Obi-Wan remembered the unhinged feeling in the Force. The tossing and turning of dark dreams, the echoes of warning and the sound of a baby crying rung in his ears until he finally scooped Anakin up from the crib and fled. "D-Dreams,” he answered. “I had visions…”

“Dreams?” scoffed Jedi Master Oppo Rancisis, his long, shaggy hair shuffled as he spoke. “You betrayed your Master and left the Order because of a dream?”

“No—not because of a dream.”

“So, you didn’t have a Force dream that warned you the need to leave?” asked Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, folding his hands on his lap.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No… it was! It was. But it was other things too. Things I already told you about.”

A round of silence befell the group as they all eyed each other knowingly. Another round of decries and falsities. At least, from their perspective. Obi-Wan garnered that much based on their cool and disappointed expressions on each Councilor. However, that didn’t make Obi-Wan’s warnings any less true. Before Obi-Wan could repeat his claims about his former master and grandmaster, someone else took the floor. 

“You mean your condemnations on myself and Qui-Gon Jinn?” came Dooku’s refined voice. It sent chills down Obi-Wan’s back. Hearing Dooku’s voice brought him back to those days in Serenno, when his grandmaster forced him to open a Sith Holocron in order to study the contents. Dooku said opening the holocron would help Obi-Wan get a sense of the Dark Side in order to find and extinguished it. He hardly remembered the contents of the holocron, but he remembered the decay and coldness right before he collapsed. He never forgot that feeling.

Obi-Wan dared not turn to glare at Dooku. He kept his vision focused on Mace, shoulders straight and chin tipped to match Mace’s hard stare. He could not break in front of the Council. “I stand by what I said,” Obi-Wan reaffirmed. “Master Jinn and Master Dooku have performed questionable actions that would be defined as acts against the Order, the Force and the Republic.” Obi-Wan scanned the placid faces of the Council. “They corrupted government officials, stolen dangerous artifacts and murdered—”

“You do realize that you are accusing a Jedi Master—a  _Councilor_ —of committing atrocities against the Order, the Force and the Republic?” Master Windu interrupted, his voice not kind at all. “I would tread very carefully, young Kenobi.”

“But it’s the truth, Master,” Obi-Wan stressed, glancing at anyone for any sign of belief. The closest he came to was Master Yoda, ears drawn down in contemplation.

Master Windu had his fingers laced together. “Then please inform the Council the crimes Master Dooku committed.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He felt unsteady, wishing to hold onto some kind of hope. He was feeble without it. Too weak to fight against the marching darkness that swarmed and swallowed all things around him. Nothing was safe or innocent. Everything was tainted. 

He gave one last futile look to Master Yoda and found that the wise master sat with a tiny smile. None of the Councilors noticed. All eyes too busy on him, but Obi-Wan saw the spark of readiness behind Master Yoda’s eyes. Was it possible the Grandmaster believed him?

“Young Kenobi?” called the baritone voice of Master Windu, “An incident, if you will.”

Obi-Wan didn’t flicker his gaze away from Master Yoda when he spoke. “Nine years ago, Master Jinn and I were on Yavin 4 when we encountered a Sith amulet that could magnitude one’s power in the Force,” he said. “I witnessed Master Jinn and Master Dooku using the amulet to empower themselves.”

Looking around the room, he discovered not a single reaction of shock, disgust or horror came across the Councilors faces. All were impassive by his accusation, as if he was simply spoke about the weather. One or two Councilors shared funny looks, but the majority all reacted indifferent to his news.

Then, Dooku returned to the center of attention. “Young Kenobi,” he addressed the young man with soft-spoken words, “are you referring to the Kaan amulet?”

Obi-Wan hesitated in his answer. He had a deep, gutted feeling that his answers were going to stab him. “Yes.”

“The one Qui-Gon Jinn found on Yavin 4 nine years ago and brought to me to help identify it?”

The dark, inkling feeling crept up Obi-Wan’s spine. The Force withered and his fingers pinched his palm to steady himself, breathing through the growing headache caused by the rolling fog in the Force. “Yes, we traveled to Serenno.”

“And why would Qui-Gon Jinn travel to Serenno for my input, young one?”

Obi-Wan froze for a moment, his thought turning as he realized the path he was being lead down to was pitch black.

“Answer the question, young Kenobi,” came the probing voice of Master Mundi.

The headache drilled into Obi-Wan’s mind. “You had exceptional knowledge of the Sith,” he answered, trying to retreat. “One would even call it as an obsession.”

Obi-Wan mildly sensed Dooku’s skin pulling back into a smile, showing sharp teeth in delight over his response. And that only made Obi-Wan feel exposed. “I agree, as it was my duty as a Jedi Shadow to learn as much as possible about our old enemy in order to ensure the Sith would not rise again,” he said, dispassionately. “Qui-Gon Jinn indeed showed me the Kaan amulet as he thought I may know of its intended purpose. Qui-Gon assisted me in my investigation, but ultimately—as you may have read in our report—we found that the amulet’s purpose was inconclusive. Less than a week after its discovery, I delivered the amulet to the Archive vault where it was destroyed.”

Master Windu and others nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I remember it being destroyed,” Master Windu said leaning comfortably and regal in his oversized seat. He turned his gaze to Obi-Wan. “Is that your only evidence to your accusation?”

Obi-Wan’s visceral fear of disbelief resurfaced and his heart went into a sheer thrum of panic. “He bribed a judicial judge to release Jenna Zan Arbor from custody in order to obtain her medical studies on Force subjects.”

Jenna Zan Arbor was a monster who studied the Force through excruciating torture. Obi-Wan knew her technique quite well when she experimented on him before Qui-Gon came to his rescue. But, Dooku and Qui-Gon were far too interested in her notes and studies to let her be trapped up in a Republic prison. Dooku arranged her release to find her headquarters and gather up the studies to review for his own nefarious purposes. 

Dooku sighed with apathy. “You mean when I implored the judicial branch to release Doctor Arbor in order for the Jedi Guardians to track her back to her secret headquarters, where the Order shut-down the entire operation and freed all the test subjects?” he said. “Yes… I believe I was given permission by this very Council to go ahead with the plan.”

Obi-Wan was on the verge of a scream. “He murdered slaves on—”

“Kenobi, enough!” Master Windu’s voice thundered the circular room. Many of the Councilors shifted in their seats uncomfortably for a brief moment before calming themselves within the Force. Master Windu took a long breath, speaking quieter. “I think we all heard enough—”

“But he’s lying!” Obi-Wan interrupted, looking from one Councilor to the next in incredulity. It was happening all over again. He whirled around, confronting Dooku face to face at last. He hadn’t seen his grandmaster in seven years, but Dooku looked exactly as he imagined. Tall, regal and immaculate in appearance, he appeared every bit an old soul, gentleman. His chosen visage in front of the Jedi Order. His eyes bored into Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan sensed the dark tendrils circling him… mocking him. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t let him win. “I know what you are,” he confronted Dooku. “You’re a Sith.”

Loud gasps circulated around Obi-Wan as a great outburst erupted. Councilors were repulsed by Obi-Wan’s bold statement, frowning severely at what they thought was lack of decorum on Obi-Wan’s part. But, Obi-Wan didn’t care. He needed to reveal Dooku’s true nature to the Council. 

“Kenobi!” Master Gallia admonished. “Restrain yourself!”

“It’s true,” Obi-Wan asserted, taking a step closer to Dooku who had yet to react at all to Obi-Wan's accusation other than with dispassionate interest. “He’s been lying and manipulating all of you—”

“I think it’s best you stop talking, young one,” came Master Plo Koon deep rumble.

“He’s a Sith!” Obi-Wan shouted, the Force shattering before him. “Why are you willing to blind yourselves?”

Master Windu’s sharp glare could cut ice off Ilum. “Enough, Kenobi.”

Dooku sighed, wearily at all the excitement. “Young Kenobi, you must see reason,” he insisted. “Your accusations have led you nowhere. If anything, you only proved to the Council that you were rash in your deductions. A Jedi knows that not everything is as it seems at first glance.”

Obi-Wan seethed through his clench teeth. “I know,” he said. “Which is why I also know that this Jedi persona of yours is a facade.”

“Because I study Sith artifacts and I had to go on a few undercover assignments for the Jedi Order,” challenged Dooku with his brows raised questionably at Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan, I have been a Jedi for nearly seven decades. I take great pride in learning as much as possible to assist the Order and its cause.” Dooku dipped his chin, his stare unyielding. “Even you admitted that you sought me out for my knowledge on Sith artifacts.”

“I didn’t say that!” Obi-Wan argued, cheeks heated as his heart pulsed in a fiery force. “You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“Like you put words in mine?” challenged Dooku, his gaze softening to make him appear more like the victim.

Obi-Wan back-stepped, struck by the realization that Dooku manipulated him into this very moment. All of Obi-Wan’s claims were erased, his integrity less valued. Dooku made him invalid and everything he said worthless. Obi-Wan felt like a padawan all over again, desperately calling for help on deaf ears. He looked around him, scanning the hard faces of the Councilors. None of them believed him. Again.

Dooku sighed despondently. “Seven years,” he said, but then paused as if his next words were difficult to say next. “I had hope this nonsense would be behind us, but it appears I am wrong. I’m sorry, Kenobi. We failed you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, unbelievable at hearing Dooku’s fake apology. “You don’t mean that at all,” he fired back. “You got me and everyone else exactly where you want us to be.” Obi-Wan thumbed his binders, his wrist aching from the weight it bore. He looked back to Master Windu, his face resembling a dark stone with his mouth taut in a straight line and his heavy eyebrows furrowed. “I see there’s no point in continuing this trial.”

Master Windu sat up high in his chair and he glanced over to Master Yoda. The Grandmaster only sighed in long disappointment before he nodded to Mace. Master Windu returned his hard gaze to Obi-Wan. “Based on what we witnessed today,” he said. “I think we can all agree that your decision to break your vows to the Order was due to inaccurate information and unreliable visions.”

“I did what the Force asked me to do,” Obi-Wan maintained.

“Visions are not guarantees of the future,” Master Windu reminded to Obi-Wan in a far gentler tone than Obi-Wan expected. Nonetheless, his words were still firm. “Your decision was reckless and rash. You disrespected not only your master and grandmaster, but also the Order.”

Obi-Wan was sinking, dragged under and his voice drowned by the cackle of victory for the Sith. He glared at Dooku, but the Sith Lord was unperturbed. After all, it was a grand victory for him. Served on a golden platter by the one of the very few people who knew the truth. Obi-Wan willing gave Dooku the weapon to destroy him and Obi-Wan fell in tragedy.

The Council doors opened and Obi-Wan heard the familiar rhyme of a soldier’s march getting closer. Once more, he found himself surrounded by Temple Guards. Master Windu gave a grave nod to the Temple Guards as he instructed Master Sifo-Dyas, who re-entered after the guards. “Return him to the detention centers,” he commanded. “The Council will reveal his fate tomorrow evening.”

And the gavel landed, condemning Obi-Wan to a life utter darkness and solitude. Anakin was right. They should have stayed with Padmé. Then they would have gotten a chance of freedom. But, Obi-Wan was hoping that he would still have allies in the Order. Since Garen's denouncement and the Council’s ignorance, he discovered they were indeed doomed of friends and believers. Obi-Wan and Anakin were alone. 

He could only hope Anakin was faring better than him.

* * *

Anakin didn’t fare any better.

After he was taken away from Obi-Wan, he found himself in a healing ward where Obi-Wan’s kind friend, Bant, examined him. She declared him healthy, but lacking some necessary vitamins. He was told to take one pill every day. After he finished with the healers, Bant passed him over to Master Krav, a Jedi crèche master to a group of younglings around his age. Anakin tried to stay with Bant, telling the Mon Calamari of his promise to Obi-Wan to stay with her. Bant apologized and said Anakin could not stay with her. But, she ensured that he would be safe and well-cared for by Master Krav. Anakin doubted it. He never trusted a Jedi after they tried to kill him and Obi-Wan. Even more so after he learned that they killed his mother. 

Unwilling to engage, Anakin chose to remain silent. After all, Obi-Wan did instruct him to not talk to strangers and to him, they were all strangers. He sat at the far end of the room as the other younglings engaged in acrobatic tricks. Master Krav pressed Anakin to participate, but Anakin refused every single time with a simple shake of his head. He sat, cross-legged, as he meditated with happier moments in his life.

It was during his meditation that Anakin overheard a group of nearby younglings whispering about him. Anakin tried to not pay attention, meditating in his own way to entertain himself. But, their words were so clear through the Force it was hard to ignore.

“Does he even know how to talk?” one youngling hesitantly inquired. “He hasn’t said a word since he was dropped off here.”

“Who knows? He’s a bit backwater planet, isn’t he?” commented another.

“He could be shy?” suggested a young girl. “I mean, this must be all very new to him.”

“Maybe… or he’s just a weirdo,” said the second person. “I mean, he traveled with Kenobi.”

Anakin saw red. He clenched his teeth, concentrating on the memory of Obi-Wan taking him swimming for the first time. He recalled the cold touch of the water enveloping him when Obi-Wan accidentally dropped him in a small lake. His heart seized in panic and he flapped his arms crazy to keep himself above the water until Obi-Wan scooped him out. It was a familiar feeling when he entered the Temple. Extreme panic, floundering about with no support with fear coursing fueling his heart. He didn’t feel safe. Or secured. Or even welcomed. It was like drowning all over again, falling further into the dark waters.

And Obi-Wan wasn't there to pull him out. 

“Hey!”

Anakin pulled out of his meditation and saw the boy standing before him, brown hair with a single gold streak. Brown eyes staring straight at him with burning interest as if he was a fascinating object. Already Anakin wished the boy would stop his intense stare. 

When the boy realized he had Anakin’s attention, he asked. “What’s your name?”

Anakin chose to stare and not say a word.

The boy then squatted down so that they both could look at each other evenly. “I’m Ferus,” said the boy, rather loudly as if Anakin was deaf before gesturing his words. “Do you understand me?”

One of the other younglings behind Ferus called after him. “Leave him alone, Ferus!”

Ferus ignored the ginger haired girl. “Do speak Basic?”

Anakin frowned, annoyed. He grew tired of the Ferus’ goggling at him like some sort of specimen.  "Yes.“

His response excited Ferus. A smile widening. "So you  _can_  speak!”

Anakin curled his nose at Ferus’ sarcastic remark. “I’m not dumb.”

Ferus waved his hands up in defense. “Didn’t say you were,” he said, casually. “So, what’s your deal? Why don’t you talk or hang-out with anyone?”

Anakin exhaled loudly out his nose and turned away, silent again. He had no interest to befriend a boy who had no problem bashing about him and Obi-Wan minutes ago. Besides, Ferus wasn’t interested in being his friend either. He was far more interested in garnering his clanmates affections. Anakin wasn’t going to play along. He sighed and went back to meditation, closing his eyes to shut Ferus out.

That didn’t stop Ferus from pestering him. “You can join us if you want?” he suggested, bringing Anakin right out of his meditation again. “We won’t bite.”

“I didn’t think you would,” commented Anakin, frowning. “You’re more bark than bite.”

And the conversation came to a screeching halt. Ferus’s charms shattered and he stood up to his full height. He towered over Anakin, hands at his hips as he glared. “I see… you think you’re better than us? Is that it? Because you might be the suppose ‘Chosen One’?”

Anakin didn’t think that at all. He  _knew_  he was better because Obi-Wan taught him. This nonsense about 'Chosen One’ only befuddled Anakin. He had no idea what the galaxy Ferus was talking on about. 

“Guess you were right,” Ferus said as he returned to his friends with a shrug. His voice was loud enough for Anakin to hear, but not Master Krav. “He admitted that he think he’s better than us.”

One of the other younglings looked on, testily. “Looks like Kenobi poisoned his mind.”

“Enough to inflate his ego,” claimed another youngling.

Fire raged deep within his soul, cackling and sparking his energy. Obi-Wan warned him of the dangers of anger. Wherever there was anger, there was pain. Anakin found it to be true and restrained himself. He remembered the words Obi-Wan repeated to himself when he needed to calm down.  _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force._ It was a prayer Anakin heard his entire life. Obi-Wan repeated it enough that Anakin remembered it, but he didn’t find it as comforting as Obi-Wan. He didn’t find the words to make any sense. He wished he could tinker with machines. That always calmed him down. But, he was no where near machinery, so he repeated the mantra just like Obi-Wan did in stressful times to help him control his anger.

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is know—_

“Probably taught him to despise the Jedi,” said a Togruta youngling.

The dragon inside uncoiled, slithering up with smoke bellowing from its nostrils. Anakin concentrated harder.  _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no—_

“Well, Kenobi is a traitor,” came Ferus’s voice. “He ruined the Jedi Order. That scum deserves whatever the Council decides.”

The cage holding the dragon burst open. Fire scorched the words Anakin tried hard to remember. It all burned and blurred he rose amongst the smoke. He stormed over to the group, blood rushing to his ears. He heard nothing, but the snarls of his words to the savages.

His approach caused some of the younglings to scatter, but a few stayed to greet their fate.

“Don’t you say a  _word_  about Obi-Wan!” Anakin threatened. “He’s twice the person you’ll ever be!”

Ferus and two others blinked in surprise and unsure how to proceed. Then Ferus let out a gentle cough. “Clearly he told you bedtime lies,” he said. “Kenobi is a traitor. He betrayed his master and the rest of the Order.”

“The Order betrayed him!” Anakin growled. “You’re the murderers and baby snatchers! You’re the scum of the galaxy!”

Ferus’s handsome face scarred into an ugly distortion as his brows furrowed and his lips turned down. “We’re peacekeepers. We prevent wars and save lives. We work for the greater good,” he said then he eyed Anakin critically. “Guess you wouldn’t know any of that seeing as Kenobi was a selfish man after all.”

“No he’s not!” Anakin defended, blood rushing to velvet his cheeks. “He’s the kindest person in the galaxy! And he’s sacrificed far more things than you ever will.”

That got a good giggle from the group of younglings. For Anakin, it fueled the dragon as it hungered for vengeance. A smirk leapt onto Ferus’s face as he rolled his eyes at Anakin. “If you mean his honor? Then sure,” he quipped. “Integrity? I bet.”

Anakin backed his shoulders. “What do you know about honor? Or integrity? You just hide out here, play fighting with others your own size. None of it is real! You’ve never seen a real battle. Or had to fight for your life. You don’t starve or sleep in the dirt. You never saw death. 

"You don’t know anything,” Anakin finished, bathing in Ferus’s humiliation. “You wouldn't even last a day outside these walls!”

Ferus’s mouth went small and tight. Jawline protruding as his eyes sparked into action. He pulled out his training saber. “Care to challenge me then?”

Anakin raised his hand up. Ferus’s training saber and his friends’ sabers all ripped out of their grasps. The three metallic cylinders levitated in front of Anakin before he ignited each one. A row of blue and green training saber lined in front of Anakin before he did another wave of his hand. The training sabers tilted away until all three sabers were trained on their respective owners. 

Anakin shot a smug smirk at Ferus. The Jedi Initiates froze, eyes searching for help. A roar of triumph rippled through Anakin. He drank in their fear. Their trembles in the Force energized him. He hated them! Hated their words against Obi-Wan. He was going to make them regret everything. Make them wish they never said anything about his family or himself. They were going to—

“ _ANAKIN SKYWALKER!_ ” yelled Master Krav as she rushed to the scene and, with a flick of the Force, she pulled the training sabers out from Anakin’s Force grip. The training sabers all disengaged and she caught them in her claw. She looked from the training sabers to Anakin, reproachful as she marched right up to him. She grabbed his arm. “What do you think you were doing? We do not attack unarmed people! In fact, we don’t attack at all unless it’s for defense!”

“They were attacking me!” Anakin shouted back, jabbing his finger at Ferus and the others. “They were making fun of me and Obi-Wan!”

Master Krav flickered a glance at the three Jedi Initiates. “Be as that may, we still do not attack… especially not in anger,” she reprimanded. “I’m would like to think Obi-Wan taught you better than that!”

Anakin breathed to argue when he came to the realization of what he had just done. Master Krav was right. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have approved of this behavior. In fact, he would have been mortified had he witnessed it. 

Anakin dropped his arms to his side. This was not who he was. Obi-Wan has told him that before when anger sprouted from his heart. Obi-Wan told him he was made for more.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologized.

Master Krav shook her head disappointingly. “I’ll have to discipline you another time,” she said. “But first, the Council would like to see you.”

Anakin cocked up a brow. “Council?”

Master Krav. “Yes, they are the leaders of the Jedi Order,” she explained. “And they would like to speak to you now.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Then you can tell them that when you go,” Master Krav said, hooking the sabers on her belt. She turned her attention to Ferus and the other younglings. “I’ll talk to you three when I return,” she said, coolly. 

Ferus and his friends apologetically bowed. “Yes, Master.”

Master Krav huffed and turned to Anakin. “Come along! We can’t keep them waiting.”

Master Krav started walking. Anakin stayed where he was for a moment. He looked back to Ferus, seeing that the Jedi Initiate glared at him. Anakin returned the cold stare. He got the feeling he and Ferus would never warm up to each other ever and Anakin was fine with it. He didn’t want to be friends with a Jedi anyway. With that victory, he followed Master Krav, very eager to leave the other younglings to their play time. 

* * *

A chime alerted Master Windu of a guest. He opened the door. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Qui-Gon smiled. “Then I guess I’m not intruding,” he said as he stepped inside the apartment. 

Mace closed the door and gestured for Qui-Gon to one of his seats. Qui-Gon settled into the biggest chair as Mace offered tea. Qui-Gon happily accepted and blew the steam away from the top of his filled cup. Mace sat across. “I know why you are here.”

Qui-Gon lifted his eyes from the hot tea to Mace. “I would be astonished if you didn’t know,” he quipped. “I heard the Council were in session for a few hours. How was he?” He took a small sip of his tea as to hide his face from Mace’s scrutiny. 

Mace lifted his brows. “Not as quiet or obedient as he used to be,” he remarked. “You’ll be happy to know that he reminded me of you.”

That brought a tug to the corner of Qui-Gon’s lips. “We often fall back to what we learn in times of need.”

“And he fell back to your habits,” Mace said. “For the sake of the Order, we don’t need another Qui-Gon running around the Temple.”

Qui-Gon sat upright. “Does that mean—”

Mace shook his head gravely. “I’m sorry, my old friend. I did not mean to get your hopes up,” he said, placing his tea aside. “We adjourned for a break, but we are hoping to meet again tomorrow afternoon to debate on Kenobi’s sentence.”

“Sentence?” Qui-Gon repeated, chewing the words with distaste. “You mean you already find him guilty?”

“He did steal from the Jedi, Qui-Gon,” Mace reminded him. “Perhaps Skywalker wasn’t officially one of us, but Kenobi still kidnapped a child from Jedi protection and then assaulted Jedi Sentinels. He cannot be free for such crimes.”

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to forget his tea as he placed it on the table in deep thought. “I… I know, but I thought you might give him some leeway. He was only a padawan. He was scared… he did what he thought he had to.”

“We all have choices, Qui-Gon,” Mace said. “He made the wrong one even if he thought it was right. His good intentions doesn’t make his actions good. He kidnapped a child! Even that is a serious felony in the Republic.”

Qui-Gon slumped in his seat in heavy defeat. “What will happen to him?”

“The Council still needs to decide. The best is that Kenobi will be imprisoned in the detention cells for a long period of time,” Mace said, unable to look into his old friend’s face out of pity and sympathy. “The worst is he’s sentenced to death.”

And that is when Mace felt the ripple of fear in the Force from Qui-Gon. “You mean to kill him?” Qui-Gon shocked. 

Mace shook his head. “No, we mean to discuss the sentence and figure out the best course. The death sentence is just the worst possible outcome for your former padawan. Doesn’t mean it will happen. In fact, I doubt it will.”

Qui-Gon dropped his face in his hands, hunched over as he mulled over the two scenarios in his head. Mace never wanted to hurt his friend by delivering him the news. Already the loss of Kenobi was a hard hit for him and to learn of his future was equally as devastating.

After a long moment, Qui-Gon lifted his head up again. Eyes red and mouth strained. “Is there a way,” he began, voice somewhat croaked. “Is there a way I can speak to him? Privately?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Qui-Gon,” Mace quickly said. “Kenobi believes you are still this dark disciple of the Sith arts.”

“That’s why I need to see him,” Qui-Gon implored his old friend. “Mace! I just need to speak to him. I haven’t seen him in years and I just… I want to see him again.”

Mace lowered his shoulders, hands on his knees. Qui-Gon had struggled with the loss of Kenobi. More so than he did with Xanatos. Kenobi was the padawan Qui-Gon always wanted and to lose him from such an unwarranted fallout crippled him. If placed in those shoes, Mace would want to know the reasons why his padawan lost faith in him and the Order. 

Against better judgment, Mace slowly nodded his head. “I can grant you access to him. No more than a quarter of an hour though,” he said as he watched Qui-Gon’s mood brightened. “I’ll let the Temple Guards know of your impending arrival.”

Qui-Gon rose from his seat and hurried to the door. “Thank you Mace,” he said as he exited. “Thank you, my old friend.”


	11. A Taunting Trial

Obi-Wan curled himself into a ball. Similar in the way he did as a youngling.

After returning to the detention center, his connection to the Force was ripped away from him. His soul was torn soul and he fell to the cold ground, abandoned by all but his own small voice. He wasted away, slipping further from the light and entering a battleground of fleeting shadows. The whole cell bespoke of instability and desperation. The more time Obi-Wan spent in his confinement, the more he had the urge to scream and scream and scream. To simply let _go_.

But, even in his darkest, he could not burn out. His thoughts burned bright of Anakin. He could not leave that boy alone. Anakin needed him. The galaxy needed him. The Force needed him to stay strong, to keep withstanding the rising darkness that threatened to devour all in its reach. So, he needed to stay strong.

It hurt to be strong. The burden of fate clawed into his shoulder blades, relentless and unforgiving. In his heart, Obi-Wan knew the truth of his own journey. It was inescapable. He was to ensure peace for the galaxy, but he himself would never enjoy peace. That would be his legacy. 

Too distracted in trying to not keel over and vomit, he missed the sound of someone entering the detention center. It wasn’t until the surrounding wards vanished that Obi-Wan peeked over his shoulder and saw Qui-Gon standing in the doorway.

“Hello,” Qui-Gon greeted.

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, backing far away until he hit the wall. “W-What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough. “Did you come to gloat?”

Qui-Gon looked hurt. “What do I have to gloat about?” he posed, stepping further into the cell. “Your incarceration? Or the fact you look terrible?”

“I’m sure both would suffice,” Obi-Wan snipped as he moved along the side of his cell to the corner. His monitored Qui-Gon's movements, adjusting his own to keep a good distance away. His tall frame blocked every portion of the door. There was no way in or out with Qui-Gon's tall frame filling up the space between Obi-Wan's corner to the door. 

Qui-Gon tilted his head, his blue eyes examining him from head to toe. Obi-Wan squirmed under his gaze. When Qui-Gon took another step closer, Obi-Wan shot up his hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

Qui-Gon stopped. “You do look terrible,” he noted. “Have you seen the healers?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, dejected. “They can’t help me. Not done here.”

His old master understood. “I see,” Qui-Gon said, glancing about the cell with an unsettling distaste. “It is rather unpleasant. I can’t imagine residing here for even an hour, let alone two days. How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan scoffed at Qui-Gon’s attempt to show any trace of compassion. “What do you care?” he said. “You must be happy. You got everything you wanted. Me—locked away… powerless to stop you and Dooku.”

Qui-Gon let out a quiet sigh as he gestured around the cell. “This is not what I wanted. For you or Anakin. You… you were meant to be so much more,” he paused, almost like he too was broken inside. “You could’ve done great things Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach curdled at the thought. Great things. Terrible things. It disgusted him. His legs wobbled as he readjusted his weight. “I don’t care,” he spluttered. “I don’t care about being great!”

“Really? Because I can recall a little boy promising me that he would become a great—”

“I know what I said!” Obi-Wan shouted, effectively silencing Qui-Gon. He can’t listen to the man. He cannot listen to stories of his past when it was Jedi Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. Bringing up those memories hurt him too much. It cut right into his already bleeding heart. “Just stop! Please… please stop.”

Qui-Gon gave him an apologetic look. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Yes you do!” Obi-Wan snapped. “You want me to lose! You want me dead!”

“That’s not true.”

Obi-Wan flippantly raised his brows. “Oh? Then it wasn’t your assassin I met on Tatooine?”

Qui-Gon’s composure faltered. A hiss seethed between his teeth as he crossed his arms. He glanced to the doors at the end of the corridor. They were closed. He looked back to Obi-Wan. “She had orders not to harm you.”

“Must have missed the memo,” Obi-Wan said, snarky. He rubbed his fingers together, remembering the feel of his lightsaber and battling the vengeful woman. She really wanted him dead. “Or given new orders.”

Qui-Gon frowned at the suggestion. “Master Dooku doesn’t want you dead, Obi-Wan.”

“You’re quite right,” Obi-Wan agreed with a dip of his chin, clutching the side of his head. “He would rather me go insane down here in these Force forsaken cells.”

That was where he was heading. His state of mind was parlous adrift between doubt and belief. A shadowy effect that kept him befuddled on where to turn. He was losing grip of reality. He heard Qui-Gon’s voice again, but it drowned in the buzz of his psychotic mind.  

Force, he felt ill! The worst was there was no end to relief. Standing in Qui-Gon’s presence brought a chill that went straight to his bones. The longer he stayed, the more difficult it was for Obi-Wan to keep himself from crashing. The cold spread from his bones, infecting his lungs. His lungs seized, pressured to the point he couldn’t breathe. A vile thing rose up, searing its way through his body until he could no longer restrain the madness.

Obi-Wan tipped over and spewed.

He had no idea how long he stood or how much he vomited. Before he collapsed in his sickness, Qui-Gon strode across the cell and wrapped an arm around his waist. Obi-Wan resisted the support, but his head was so heavy with fog that his resistance was futile. Qui-Gon easily led Obi-Wan to the cot, setting him down as he used the ends of his sleeve to wipe Obi-Wan’s mouth clean.

“Breathe, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon instructed. “You’re fine. You’re only panicking.”

It didn’t feel like panic. His soul was being extinguished by the lack of the Force. He was withering away hundreds of stories below.

Qui-Gon tipped Obi-Wan’s head back to the light, clinically observing his face. Two callous fingers were pressed against his neck. “I’m going to call for a healer,” he told Obi-Wan. “Then make a request to move you into a different holding cell.”

Obi-Wan brushed Qui-Gon’s fingers away from him. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled. “I have no more energy to talk in circles. I did it once today and found it tedious.”

Qui-Gon sighed and squatted down in front of Obi-Wan. He pushed back loose strands of Obi-Wan's hair and held his head, thumbs right by his ears. Obi-Wan pulled, but Qui-Gon held firm. “There is so much more you can do, Obi-Wan,” he persevered, keeping Obi-Wan's eyes on him. “You’re a talented young man. Someone destined!” Obi-Wan thought he saw a slither of yellow streaming into Qui-Gon's blue colored eyes. Qui-Gon didn't even notice. “You and Anakin have a far greater destiny than all of us.”

Destiny. Obi-Wan never cared for destinies. Who decided their fates for them? It was an unfair and cruel slavery to have one’s fate already written. Obi-Wan erased his and chose to write his on the run.

However, Qui-Gon was a firm believer in prophecies despite his motto of focusing on the present moment. He was assertive when he spoke of Obi-Wan and Anakin that it made Obi-Wan feel more like a pawn in Qui-Gon’s arsenal to write the galaxy’s future history. Obi-Wan wanted no part in it. He never did.

Obi-Wan pulled his head again and finally, Qui-Gon released him. Qui-Gon stood, rising to his full height, his dark shadow casting over Obi-Wan. “One day, you’ll understand and not shy away from it,” he confided. “Until then, stay strong. Keep focus. And trust in the Force. It’ll guide you on your correct path.”

His head was still fogged up and boggled. Limbs too weak that he couldn’t even make any form of protest other than the words the slipped off his tongue. “You’re not my master.”

That didn’t deter Qui-Gon. The tall man smiled fondly at Obi-Wan. “That may be true for now,” he agreed, “but you’ll always be my padawan.”

The sound of a door opening followed by heavy booted footsteps drew Obi-Wan’s attention away from Qui-Gon to the corridor. Master Sifo-Dyas appeared, followed by his small squad of Temple Guards. Sifo-Dyas didn’t seem at all surprised by Qui-Gon’s appearance. “Ah… Qui-Gon,” he addressed the fake Jedi Master. “Mace said you might be down here. I’m sorry to cut this reunion short, but Obi-Wan is needed.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I understand,” he said and he backed away from Obi-Wan to head out of the cell. “Though, I would like to make a formal complaint. As you can see, Obi-Wan isn’t feeling well.”

Master Sifo-Dyas flickered from Obi-Wan to the vomit on the floor. “Yes. That can happen when one stays here for too long.”

“Then remove him from this confinement!” Qui-Gon argued. “If you keep him here any longer, he’ll rot to death.”

“You’re concerns are noted,” Master Sifo-Dyas told him. “I’ll have a healer examine him, but Obi-Wan will remain here. Per the orders of the Council. Until those orders change, he will not be removed.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows lowered into a line of stark authority. “I’ll speak with the Council. Get them to ease up on such archaic treatment.”

“I wish you the very best, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan with resonated hope. “Remember what I said, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked away, wishing for him to leave. Qui-Gon did, the quick of his feet fleeting in the silence before the hissing of the door ended it. Qui-Gon was gone and Obi-Wan released a pent up breath, his body feeling loose and aggravated all at once. Master Sifo-Dyas ordered him to rise up and Obi-Wan tried, but the Temple Guards had to assist him. They dragged him to the Jedi Shadow.

“You know,” Master Sifo-Dyas said as he snapped on the Force-nulling binders around Obi-Wan’s wrist once again, “for condemning him as a Sith, Qui-Gon takes the greatest pains to help you.”

Obi-Wan stared at the binders, turning his wrist over as he resigned. “That’s unfortunate.”

* * *

Anakin had his feet planted firmly apart as he stood directly in the middle of the circled assemblage of stoic Jedi. He eyed them all suspiciously, contemplating different scenarios in his head on how to escape from the room. None of them were plausible; then again, he and Obi-Wan have performed extraordinary feats before. Standing alone on the mosaic tiles, he felt vulnerable and exposed. No one said a word upon his arrival. No attempts were made to make him feel welcome and he was uncertain of how this meeting was going to go.

Straight ahead, Anakin recognized the two individuals he met at the hangar: Master Windu and Master Yoda. Master Windu was stone-faced. No expression or gentleness that Obi-Wan held when he looked at him. Master Windu was rigid and cold in his posture. A man of ultimate control. Master Yoda sat at ease. Focused, but not in the same intensity as the others. He looked upon Anakin as the boy he was. Not a threat or a tainted person like in the others’ gazes. Master Yoda looked pleasantly impressed.

Anakin didn’t understand why. He never met Master Yoda and in his first meeting, he attacked them. It seemed Master Windu didn’t forget that. “Will you be needing Force binders or will you cooperate with this interview?”

Anakin shook his head. “I’ll be good.”

Master Windu nodded. “As protocol, we will need to state your name for the record,” he said. “Please state your name.”

“Um… am I on trial or something?”

“You are not on trial,” Master Windu assured him. “We are conducting an interview to understand what happened in the past few years.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes at Master Windu, studying the words. “You mean you want to know if Obi-Wan has done something wrong.”

“Young Skywalker, we only wish to collaborate stories,” came the words from a man with a very tall head, “and to get a better understanding of you as well.”

Anakin shifted his feet, putting extra weight on the other. He nervously scanned their faces, reading as much as he could from their expressions. It was hard to tell what the truth was behind those masks. They kept their wants a secret behind those pressed mouths and Anakin never felt so small and unsure of himself. He wished Obi-Wan was beside him. He would feel a lot safer if he was there with him.

“Now that is settled,” stated Master Windu, “Please state your name.”

Anakin took a deep breath. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

“Anakin—how long have you lived with Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Anakin had to think. “Seven years. Maybe eight now?”

There a few confirmed murmurs that suggested Anakin was right in his math. The creature with a breathing mask spoke next. “How would you describe your life with Kenobi?” he asked in a muffled rumble. “Give us a daily routine.”

“Why?”

That rattled the Council’s nerves. Never, Anakin suspected, had anyone ever dared to defy the Council’s inquiries. Well, maybe except Obi-Wan. He noticed how many of the Councilors looked exasperated, some looking at him like the behavior was expected. But Master Windu’s face tightened to the point his vein bulged out from his neck.

“I thought you said you were willing to cooperate with us?” Master Windu reminded him.

Anakin shuffled a little under Master Windu’s dagger-like gaze, but he returned the stare. He wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Especially when it involved prying into his and Obi-Wan’s private life. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

That gave the Council another jolt of surprise. A woman with dark skin and a kind face spoke. “We’re not strangers, young one,” she said. “We’re the Jedi Council. We mean you no harm. Our mission in life is to ensure peace and prosperity to the Republic.”

“Then why do you need to know about Obi-Wan and I?”

“Because young Kenobi has broken his oath,” answered a man with a very long head. “We hope you could help clarify a few things for us to decide if Kenobi is a threat or not.”

Anakin was appalled. “Obi-Wan is not a threat!”

The dark skinned woman smiled. “We would like to accept your word, but we must look at all the possibilities before coming to a conclusion,” she said. “Now—are you willing to answer our questions?”

Anakin rocked his head side-to-side in thought. He cared nothing for their beliefs or opinions. Anakin knew Obi-Wan better than anyone else in the room. Obi-Wan wasn’t a monster like they make him out to be. He was a good person, who was troubled by his past and future.

His declaration wasn’t going to help Obi-Wan. Only answering the questions would help get Obi-Wan release. “If I answer, will I get to see Obi-Wan? Could we leave?”

The Councilors all shifted their gaze from him to Master Windu and Master Yoda. Master Windu eventually bowed his head to look to Master Yoda for guidance. Master Yoda, claw-hands resting on top of some stick, stared sympathetically. “See him, you will. Answer questions first, you must.”

That was all Anakin needed to hear. He was going to see Obi-Wan again. 

“Now that’s cleared,” Master Windu began again. “Explain your daily routine.”

“Well… that depends,” said Anakin.

A deep crease formed between Master Windu’s brows. “On what?”

“What’s happening that day,” Anakin clarified. “Are we going to run into an enemy? Are we in-between homes? Planets?”

Another murmur circled him, but it sounded graver than the first. Master Windu answered his question. “A routine where there’s no traveling or fighting. You wake up in a house.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, thinking. They never really had a routine. It changed a lot depending on the situation. But, Anakin gave his best shot. “I usually wake up later than Obi-Wan. When I wake up, breakfast is made so I eat. After that, I tinker on projects of mine. Then we do our runs and I guess afterwards, Obi-Wan has me doing lessons. Once we’re done with those I practice meditating or I do chores. Then Obi-Wan has me do other lessons. We have dinner next and after that we just do whatever. Usually something fun. Then I go to bed.”

He noticed right away how a few of the Jedi Council members narrowed on certain words. They picked at it, mulling it over their heads to form it into another question. 

“Young Skywalker,” said the dark-skinned woman on the opposite side. “You said Obi-Wan has you doing lessons. What type of lessons?”

“Oh, um… like math, languages, geography, government… those type of lessons.”

“School lessons,” she said, smiling, and Anakin nodded in agreement.

Another Councilor, a strange looking man who’s face was hidden by shagging white hair. “Did he ever teach you about the Force?”

Anakin hesitated in answering. He wasn’t sure if Obi-Wan would want him talking about his training. His hand instinctively reached out next to him, but all he felt was air. Obi-Wan wasn’t with him. 

The Council noticed his reluctance. Master Windu leaned over in his mighty chair. “It is important you do not lie to the Council, Anakin,” he warned. “It will only lead you and Obi-Wan to trouble.”

Anakin didn’t want that. He sighed in surrender. “I’ve had lessons on the Force. Obi-Wan taught me.”

“What did he teach you about the Force?” inquired a short, long-eared man.

“Things,” Anakin said, vague in his response. “Like how to move or block objects with the Force.”

“He’s taught you how to fight.”

“Yes… NO!” Anakin quickly corrected after he saw the frowns forming on the Council’s faces. “Not to fight, but to defend. He wanted me to learn how to defend myself and others if a time comes when I needed to. That’s all.”

There were some flickering doubts casting around the circle and Anakin had a terrible feeling that he helped dig Obi-Wan’s grave. “Obi-Wan is a good teacher,” he continued in hopes to make up his fault. “He’s patient and understanding. He has high expectations, but he doesn’t get mad when I don’t make it right away.” Anakin paused to think of some more positive things about Obi-Wan. “He’s wise. He knows a lot about everything. If he doesn’t, then he’ll spend hours researching and then explain it to me the next day. He um… he helps me on projects even if he doesn’t find them enjoyable. He’s not a morning person, but he’ll get up early anyway to make sure there’s food. He’s kind—”

“Thank you, Skywalker,” came the breathing masked Jedi. “We were only curious what he taught you about the Force.”

“Oh,” Anakin felt small in their little world. They said he wasn’t on trial, yet the question and scrutinizing stares made it feel that Anakin was fighting for his life. “Okay.”

He looked around and found Master Yoda smiling. It wasn’t the biggest smile he’s ever seen. And it wasn’t exactly the warmest either. Not the same smiles Obi-Wan offered. The smile was pleasant and Anakin got the sense the little green Jedi was pleased to hear of Obi-Wan’s character. 

Another voice called for attention and Anakin spun around to face a man with silver hair, crisped clothes and a flowing cape rather than a robe like the others. His brown eyes pierced into Anakin like an invasion and Anakin felt a knobby headache growing against his temples. The man spoke with a regal and honor. Someone of great wealth and pride. “Skywalker,” the man said, voice deep and clear. “You stated you do ‘runs’. What do you mean by those?”

There was something different about that man. The Councilor looked upon Anakin with growing fascination, privy for details. Anakin backed away from the man. Using the Force, he tried to get a reading on the man when he found that the shields were heavily fortified. Like he was hiding something of his own…

Anakin froze. He knew exactly who the man before him was—Dooku!

He never knew what the man looked like. Obi-Wan didn’t have a picture of Dooku. Only Qui-Gon. The Councilor before him fi the very description Obi-Wan gave him and suddenly, Anakin was encased in an icicle. His blood went cold and the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up as he slowly slid his feet away from the man. 

Dooku caught the movement and the corners of his mouth slanted. “I asked the wrong question,” he said, leaning over in his chair. “What has Obi-Wan told you about me, young Skywalker?”

Anakin’s chest tightened to the point it hurt to breathe. He didn’t know what to do or say. Obi-Wan handled the enemy. He went head-to-head against Jedi and the Sith. Anakin… he did what he was always told to do: Run! He glanced to the double doors, his feet turning to make a mad dash to escape…

“I see,” Dooku’s regal voice echoed the chamber and he leaned back. “He’s told you wild tales about me and Master Jinn. I’m afraid I must disappoint you then.”

Anakin glared questionably at the man. Dooku only returned pity. “Obi-Wan lied to you, young one. Visions and dreams plagued Obi-Wan and he took them as truths”

“That’s a lie!” Anakin shouted. His words reverberated the Council’s chambers. He didn’t realized his voice could go that loud. “You’re evil. A murderer!”

Dooku clasped his fingers together, resting it against his chest. “Throwing accusations based on a rumor is an ill-conceived point,” he said. “It only makes you a fool.”

His vision burned red. “I’m not a fool!”

“Skywalker,” came the thunderous warning from Master Windu. “Calm down or else we will resort to the binders.”

Anakin scrunched up his face in frustration. No wonder Obi-Wan dreaded returning to the Order. It was like a prison. A glided prison, but nonetheless a prison. Yet, to save Obi-Wan, Anakin resorted to controlling down on his emotions. He clamped down the anger and refocused back to the situation at hand. This was a testing ground and he could not fail.

“Sorry,” he replied as he turned his back to Dooku. The chill still remained in the air. A constant reminder of who was behind him. He hugged his sides, fingers digging into his rib cage. “I… I don’t feel so well. Can I go?”

Skepticism was written on all of their faces. No one believed his illness, but Anakin had to try. Without saying a word, Anakin knew his request was denied. He stayed in the circle, eyes shifting from one face to the next as he waited for one of the Councilors to speak. 

To his surprise, it was Master Yoda who steered the interview. “Feel cold do you, hmm?”

“Yes, sir,” Anakin confessed. He hoped that meant he could leave and find Obi-Wan. 

Master Yoda’s wise faze fixed on him. “Afraid you are.”

Not a question. A statement. Anakin shook his head. “I’m not afraid.”

Master Yoda waved a claw in his direction. “Afraid you are,” he repeated. “Afraid of changes. Afraid for Obi-Wan.”

Anakin dropped his eyes to the floor. He chose not to say anything.

“Mindful of your feelings, must you be. The path to the Dark Side, fear is,” Master Yoda said. “Take care of himself, Kenobi can. Focusing on you, are we.”

Anakin nodded, but his thoughts were still on Obi-Wan and wondering if he was all right. “Okay.”

Master Yoda studied him for another moment. “Then continue, we will,” he said. “Answer Master Dooku’s question, you will.”

Anakin tensed again, but he put up his shields to hide his concerns from the Jedi Masters. “Err… the runs were our escape routes in case we need to leave immediately,” he explained. “We practice different paths. Obi-Wan tries to make it a game—like a race—so it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“You create these routes at every place you live?” inquired the tall headed Master.

“Yes.”

“Who do you run from?” questioned a man with two horns that came to his shoulders. 

Anakin shrugged. “Bounty hunters, Jedi, Sith,” he listed off. “Bad people in general.”

He watched the Council’s faces screw up at being labeled in such terms. Anakin hardly cared about their feelings. From his point-of-view, they were bad people. They hunted them. They kidnapped them. They were holding them prisoners for on a ridiculous reason that didn’t make sense to Anakin. Obi-Wan and him didn’t do anything wrong other than refuse to go to the Temple. And, Anakin didn’t find that fair. 

Master Windu’s brows furrowed, eyes hard on Anakin. “Moving on… when confronted with bounty hunters,” he said. “What actions do you take?”

“Obi-Wan usually tells me to run,” Anakin answered. “He handles the bad people, but… sometimes I stay to help if I can.”

“How?”

“Um… like distractions or using the Force to throw them off.”

“And how does Obi-Wan 'handle’ the situation?” inquired the dark-skinned woman.

Anakin twisted the ends of his sleeves. “He… um, he uses his lightsaber and the Force to keep us safe.”

There was tension brewing in the chamber. Questioning looks were shared and a few Councilors shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Master Windu followed up the question. “Has Kenobi injured or killed anyone?”

Anakin cocked an eyebrow. “What? No. He doesn’t do that. I mean, he may injure in defense, but not purposefully!”

“Are you sure?”

His hands curled to fists, growling. “Yes.”

The masked Jedi folded his hands, building a little bridge above his lap. “During your travels, did Kenobi act—at any point—unstable or mad?”

“NO!” Anakin shouted, confused by the question.

“Did he ever use the Dark Side of the Force?" queried the short man with long ears. "Use the Force any time in a negative way?”

“What? No,” Anakin said, defensively and perplexedly. “Never! He wouldn’t… what’s with these questions?”

He felt his head spinning. Their questions were throwing him off, distracting him from something he couldn’t quite focus on at the moment. He looked back at the questions, trying to analyze where their questions lead him. 

A crease formed between Anakin’s eyebrows as a memory popped into his head. “Does this have to do with that woman?”

Silence followed. A stirring of brown robes as the Councilors exchanged quizzical glances and murmurs. Master Windu leaned closer in his mighty chair, hand resting underneath his chin. “What woman are you referring to, young Skywalker?”

“The woman at Tatooine,” Anakin clarified. “She had a red lightsaber.”

The chamber erupted. Councilors were condemning him, demanding answers, or trying to penetrate his shields. Anakin winced at the onslaught, cringing at the invasion and denouncements. Finally a loud crack of a stick silent the chamber. The Councilors resettled back to their stoic expressions as Master Yoda took the floor.

“A woman you say?” Master Yoda said, interested. “Carried a red lightsaber, did she?”

Anakin nodded. “Yes. She had a red lightsaber.”

“What did the woman look like?” grilled Master Windu.

Anakin half-shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Master Windu’s strong brows rose high up his forehead. “You don’t know?”

“No. You should ask Obi-Wan,” Anakin told him. “He fought her after he sent Padmé and me away.”

Master Yoda and Master Windu shared a look. “We will,” Master Windu agreed, reclining in his seat, face stern. “Let’s continue on so that you may join your peers for dinner.”

Anakin fidgeted forward. Did he make a mistake in telling them about the woman? Was Obi-Wan in more trouble? “What about Obi-Wan? When will I get to see him?”

Master Windu breathed heavily out his nose, his nostrils flaring. “As soon as we thoroughly complete both interviews,” he answered. “Now… let’s continue.”

“He’s not in trouble—”

“Let’s move on.”

Anakin answered the last few questions, but it seemed the Council lost interest in him. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking with Master Krav again, heading to the refectory. He received his plate of food, but he sat alone, picking at the healthy leafs and fruit on his plate. He wasn’t hungry. His mind kept revisiting his session with the Council, analyzing his answers and their responses. He thought he did well. At least, he thought he did well for most of it. He only hoped his answers didn’t get Obi-Wan in more trouble. But, Anakin was sure he gave the Council a good impression of Obi-Wan. 

Anakin sighed in depression and pushed his tray away. He missed Obi-Wan. A lot. 


	12. Another Round of Questioning

Obi-Wan laid on his back, head pillowed for comfort. He stared up at the bare, empty ceiling, his mind buzzing with fraught thoughts. He was happy to be out of the detention cells and away from Qui-Gon. Funny, he remembered a time he despised the Halls of Healing. As a Jedi youngling, he preferred to hide away and care for himself. But now, he didn’t mind laying completely still and just letting Vokara Che poke and prod him with her medical equipment. 

She gave her conclusions and prescribed at least a few hours of rest in the Halls of Healing to regain some strength within the Force. Temple Guards were stationed in his room. Silent statues that one would have forgotten they were there until they lit up their lightsaber pikes. Obi-Wan was drifting in the currents of the Force, feeling weightless when he heard the lightsaber pikes ignite and the door sliding open. His eyes fluttered to the door and he saw a Mon Calamari padawan step uneasily into the room, her silver eyes rounding on him. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes brightened at seeing Bant. “Hello, old friend.”

Bant smiled as she approached the cot. “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan. I heard what happened,” she said, looking over Obi-Wan with a medical eye. “How are you feeling?”

“Considering? Good.”

Bant chuckled lightly. “Of course you are. You could be bleeding from your eyes and you’ll say that at least you have your other senses.” She pulled up a chair and took a seat. “In all serious though—how are you  _really_  feeling?”

Obi-Wan rolled his head to the side to look at Bant fully. She looked good, healthy and happy. Quite the opposite for him. “I’ve been better,” he decided, not wanting to worry Bant. There were far greater concerns for both of them. “How’s Anakin? Is he all right?”

Bant placed her hands on her knees as she leaned in to speak. “I performed a physical exam and I found him to be healthy for his age. Lacked some vitamins, but overall a healthy boy. He’s a bit shy and quiet.”

“He can be like that when he’s scared,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But, once you get him to open up, he’s a burst of energy. It’s hard to even stay up with him at times.”

“I imagine so,” Bant said with a fond smile. “He reminds me of you.”

“You’re mistaken,” Obi-Wan brushed off Bant’s acknowledgment. “I was never as talented as him.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bant upbraided with a small smile. “Quiet, stubborn, defensive… I could keep going.”

Obi-Wan huffed. “I was never so brash as you are making me out to be.”

“Says the person who took a promising Jedi Initiate in the middle of the night and disappeared for seven years?”

Obi-Wan closed his mouth and turned sharply away. “You blame me then,” he said, shortly. “Does everyone here look at me like a villain?”

“Not everyone. I don’t see you as a villain,” Bant said quietly.

“Then you see a foolish boy.”

Bant sighed, tired. “When I look at you, I still see my friend,” she confessed, “and a Jedi.”

It was not what Obi-Wan expected to hear. He turned his head back to Bant, looking upon his friend’s face and seeing truth in her words. She believed in him. Obi-Wan pulled himself up in a sitting position, causing the Temple Guards to become alert and ready to strike him. But, they didn’t charge at him. Only watched.

“You believe me?” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“I… I don’t know,” Bant admitted, glancing away to hide her confusion. “It’s hard to know what to believe. I know you, Obi-Wan! I don’t see you ever being so reckless, but when you did this and I… I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “But… I still see a Jedi in you.”

Obi-Wan tried hard not to cry in front of Bant. Of all the things she could have said, she said the words Obi-Wan never believed he would ever hear again. Obi-Wan turned his hand over, palm up, as a sign of gratitude. Bant looked down at the hand and smiled. She placed her own hand around Obi-Wan’s and they rekindled the friendship they lost years ago. 

“Thank you, Bant,” Obi-Wan said as they broke free. “It’s good to know that I have one ally here.”

“I have always been your ally, Obi-Wan,” Bant assured him. “I like to think our friendship isn’t easy to break.”

For the first time in what seemed forever, Obi-Wan laughed. It wasn’t a hearty, boisterous roar. It was quiet and memorable. A light that poked through his dark thoughts. “Quite right,” he said. “I wish I could say the same for all.”

“You mean Garen?” Bant said, knowingly. She tipped her head down in sadness. “He was hurt by your departure. There was a lot of backlash from what you did, but I never blamed you.”

“I think you’re the only one.”

“I’m sure if you explain—”

“I tried, but they won't listen,” Obi-Wan said and he sunk further into his cot at the memory of his interrogation. “They believe me to be crazy. Too lost.”

“Have hope,” Bant said, rubbing his hand. “The Council may still see reason.”

That caused Obi-Wan to arch his brows in humor. “Yes—and I can travel through time and change it all.”

“Obi-Wan…”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, Bant. It’s quite all right. I suppose it’s time I faced my consequences head on. I only hope no one else gets caught in the crossfire,” he said, taking Bant’s hand in his own. He squeezed it in reassurance for her. “If you can, Bant, may you please promise me one thing?”

Bant looked nervously. Promises were hard to keep as a Jedi. A promise was a form of an emotional attachment by the Order. To make a promise with an individual meant the possibility of disregarding the oath made to the Order and the Force itself. Jedi are warned to not make promises and Obi-Wan knew Bant was conflicted. 

“I don’t know, Obi-Wan,” Bant murmured.

“It’s nothing too bad,” Obi-Wan swore. “I… in case it doesn’t go well with the Council, I need someone to look after Anakin. Will you promise me? You don’t have to take him on as a padawan or anything like that. Just… keep him safe. Promise me?”

Bant looked away, ruffled by Obi-Wan plea. Obi-Wan could see the cogs of her mind moving and her heart judging the options. Then with a slow nod, she accepted. “I’ll look after him, Obi-Wan. For you.”

With the promise secured, Obi-Wan relaxed. His body eased and his mind was uncluttered of those anxieties. “Thank you, Bant. Thank you.”

The door to his healing ward opened and Master Sifo-Dyas returned. He eyed Bant with scrutiny and judgement. Bant quickly got to her feet and made space between herself and Obi-Wan. She bowed respectfully to Master Sifo-Dyas. “Master.”

Master Sifo-Dyas stepped closer, face crossed at Bant’s appearance. “Kenobi is not to receive visitors.”

Bant shifted under Master Sifo-Dyas’ critical gaze. “Master Che gave me permission.”

Obi-Wan knew she was lying. He didn’t need the Force to sense the hesitation in Bant’s words. Vokara Che did not give her permission to visit. Master Sifo-Dyas, a well-respected Jedi Shadow, knew it too.

“Please leave padawan,” Master Sifo-Dyas commanded. He pointed to the door. “I’ll report to Vokara Che of your insubordination.”

Bant’s shoulders slouched in defeat. She kept her head down as she departed, but right before leaving, she gave Obi-Wan an apologetic, yet hopeful look. It warmed Obi-Wan’s heart to see the effort his friend made to see him. 

Master Sifo-Dyas ordered him up. “The Council wishes to see you.”

“Again?” Obi-Wan questioned, befuddled by the change of plans. “I thought my sentencing wasn’t until tomorrow?”

Master Sifo-Dyas shrugged as he snapped the Force-nulling binders back on Obi-Wan’s wrist. His connection to the Force immediately was shut off and his mind filled with fog once more. “Perhaps they came to their decision quicker than expected.”

Obi-Wan was lead through the Temple. He saw a few masters, knights and padawans glimpse in his direction with scowls, indifference and curiosity. All of them imagined him as something entirely different than what he truly was and he couldn’t say anything. No one would believe in him anyway. No matter what he said.

They arrived outside the Council Chamber doors. Coruscant’s sun setting in the distance, illuminating the metal structures into a fiery glaze that hauntingly reminded Obi-Wan of his visions years ago. He blenched and looked away, focusing on the sealed doors.

Master Sifo-Dyas spoke with the padawan assistant and in a few short minutes, Obi-Wan found himself in the center, ringed by Jedi Masters. Their faces were not kind or compassionate. They all eyed him with conspiracy and suspicion. Obi-Wan looked to Dooku, the Jedi poser. Dooku sat rigid in his seat, agitated, but still hiding well behind his heavy veil. He looked composed like the rest of the circled Jedi Masters, but there was agitation flaring in the man’s eye. Something was not going according to his plan.

Once Obi-Wan was situated in the center and the Temple Guards took their place, Master Yoda greeted him. “How feeling are you, hmm? Feeling well we heard from Master Sifo-Dyas that you are not.”

“I’ve had better days,” Obi-Wan responded, weary, “but I’ll manage.”

“If you need more rest, stay in the Halls of Healing, you can.”

“I thank you for the offer, but that won’t change the circumstances,” Obi-Wan said as he raised the binders to demonstrate that his illness was due to the elimination of the Force. 

Master Yoda looked sad as he spied the cuffs. His ears turned down, ashamed and disappointed. Master Windu stroked his bare jawline as he examined Obi-Wan. “Master Jinn has made an official request to move you to lesser cells, which we will consider for tomorrow’s sentencing,” he informed Obi-Wan. “But for now, you will stay in those detention cells.”

Qui-Gon certainly busied himself, Obi-Wan thought. He pondered if that was the main reason he was dragged back to the Council Chamber. To inform him that they were sorry for his illness, but decide to do nothing about it. It seemed like an overly dramatic show of power. Something he imagined the Council would never consider.

Master Windu rested his hands on his armchair, looking very significant and respectable in his chosen seat. “Let us continue on with the real reason why we summoned you,” he addressed Obi-Wan folding his hands together. “Interesting news has come to our attention this past hour.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, indifferent. “Did it?”

Master Yoda twisted his gimer stick in his seat, studying Obi-Wan carefully. “Of a woman on Tatooine Anakin told us.”

Obi-Wan suck in his breath. They spoke to Anakin. Already? His eyes looked to all the faces he could see in his line of vision, seeing their curious furrows on the matter. Obi-Wan adjusted his hands, the metal cuffs biting into his inner wrists. Still, he chose not to speak and waited. 

Master Windu sat tall in his seat, watching Obi-Wan with those penetrating eyes. “Skywalker claimed she carried a red lightsaber,” he added onto Master Yoda’s comment. “He also said that you engaged in battle with her.”

So that was the reason for Dooku’s agitation. His new apprentice had been revealed to the Jedi Council. Obi-Wan hopefully could use this to his advantage and shed light on those slithery shadows Dooku and Qui-Gon casted.

Master Windu eyed him carefully. “Is this true?”

Obi-Wan restrained himself from flickering a look to Dooku. He straightened his shoulders and nodded. “Yes, Anakin speaks the truth.”

An intense rumble echoed amongst the masters. They all snuck glances to one another with shock and disapproval. Many whispered to one another in disturbance of the news. It was almost as if Obi-Wan had all struck them with lightening and they were utterly defenseless to know what to do next. They all looked to Master Yoda or Master Windu for guidance. 

Master Windu leaned heavily forward in his seat, growling. “And you didn’t think to bring this up during your session?”

Obi-Wan half-shrugged. “Cannot command a blind man to see. Cannot command a deaf man to hear,” he said, looking from Master Windu to Master Yoda. “I figured you wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Except now we have a witness that says otherwise.”

“Who? Anakin? I’m surprise,” Obi-Wan professed, rocking slightly on his heels. “You normally don’t take the word of a youngling. Truth or not.”

That earned him a blast of cold disapproval from all the Councilors. Master Yoda regarded him with tense eyes. “No need for attitude, there is, young Kenobi. To learn we asks questions. From those answers, conclusions, we make,” he grunted. “Be bitter, do not. No good to be resentful, it is.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, sorrowfully accepting the reprimand. “My apologies,” he said. “I do not mean to be resentful. I’m am only surprise.”

“Surprise by your omittance of such a crucial details, like we are, hmm?” Master Yoda returned, ears up and brows close together. Obi-wan regretted his words and kept his head respectfully down. He heard Master Yoda’s claw tap on the tip of his gimer stick. “Of the woman tell us. A Sith, was she, hmm?”

Obi-Wan thought back to the memory of his duel with the Dathomirian woman. He shook his head. “No.”

“No,” repeated Master Windu. “Did she not carry a red lightsaber?”

“She did, but she was no Sith.”

“Because you are a reliable source on defining a Sith?” challenged Master Even Piell. 

Obi-Wan grounded his teeth. “I credit that she was trained in the Jedi arts and was well-skilled in dueling,” he said. “But she was no Sith. I felt her Force presence. She lacked mastery.”

Another round of murmurs fluttered around him. Obi-Wan stayed perfectly still, unswayed by their disbelief. A few sunk into their seats, contemplating the tidbit. Red lightsabers were rare. Only belonging to the Lords of the Sith. No Jedi ever held a red lightsaber. The closest was Master Windu’s purple blade. So, to hear the starling news of a Dark Force user carrying a red lightsaber was a rude shock to many, despite the years Obi-Wan warned them of Dooku and Qui-Gon’s meddling of the Dark Side. 

“Where on Tatooine did the attack occur?” asked Master Plo Koon.

“On the edge of Mos Espa,” Obi-Wan answered. “I thought she came to kill the Queen, but after engaging her, I realize the Queen was not the target.”

“Who was the target then?” inquired Master Depa Billaba.

Obi-Wan locked his eyes on Master Yoda. “ _I_  was the target,” he revealed as he turned to address the rest of the Council. “During our duel, she appeared to be familiar with me, recognizing that I was once a member of the Jedi Order. She called me by my name, but that is not terribly surprising since I have been a wanted man for years.” He was the poster boy of the Republic’s Most Wanted far too long than he desired. “When asked for hers, she refused.”

As he relayed the information to the Council, he managed to sneak a look at Dooku. The mercurial shift in Dooku’s gaze was disconcerting. Displeasure shrouded his eyes as something much colder entered the Force. It wasn’t noticeable from a simple glance, but Obi-Wan recognized that expression. It was the same look Dooku gave him when he attempted to interfere with his and Qui-Gon’s missions. It often resulted in Obi-Wan experiencing a sharp prick in his mind before it became a crippling migraine that paralyzed him for the rest of the day. 

But, Obi-Wan knew Dooku wouldn’t do it in front of the Council. Too many witnesses that would link it back to him. Instead, he settled on warning him through a simple shift of his eyes. If Obi-Wan spoke more, consequences would follow. 

Obi-Wan had the upper-hand though. He knew Dooku and Qui-Gon would not hurt Anakin. They needed him and Obi-Wan wasn’t afraid for his own life. So, Dooku’s warning was empty-handed. He had nothing to hold over Obi-Wan. Those days were long over. 

“She possessed a lot of hatred toward me,” Obi-Wan continued on, ignoring Dooku. “I’ve never met her in my life, but she knew me and wanted me dead. She tried very hard to do so. I was fortunate to beat her and escape.”

Master Adi Gallia folded her hands into her robes. “Could you describe this woman?”

He would never forget her. Not because she made an impression on him. The fact that she vowed to kill him was the reason for how he pictured her so clearly. “She was Dathomirian. Tall with a slight build,” he began describing the woman. “Sharp eyes and a bald head with tattoos.”

“And her fighting style?” queried Master Tiin. 

Obi-Wan felt the Dark Side drilling into the back side of his head. Dooku’s frustrations were heightening. His sedulously planned manipulations were being undone due to his apprentice’s failure. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but slip a small grin of retribution. Soon, the Council and the rest of the Order would recognize Dooku and Qui-Gon as Sith. 

“She carried two, curved lightsabers,” he answered Master Tiin, “and I would say her dueling form resembled Makashi. Not a perfect style of it, but it was similar to Form II.”

The Councilors all exchanged worried glances. Master Windu muttered under his breath as he rubbed a hand over his face. Obi-Wan recognized the faces of grave disquiet as they all absorbed Obi-Wan’s descriptions. Eyes flickered from him to Master Yoda, all hoping for some clarification as to what the woman could possibly mean. Obi-Wan felt his heart rising in his chest. Hope kindled the fire within him as he locked his gaze onto Master Yoda. He needed the Grandmaster to know the truth! To see that Dooku and Qui-Gon were false and a great threat to democracy and the Order. 

“Mother Talzin.”

Every Jedi all turned to Dooku. Obi-Wan pivoted to look at the Sith Lord, surprised to find that Dooku had recomposed himself into a more genteel aristocrat than a maddening master. Dooku didn’t even look at Obi-Wan. His gaze was on Master Yoda and Master Windu. “It must be Mother Talzin, the ruler of Dathomir,” he explained to the other Councilors. “She practices the use of magicks with her Force-sensitive clans: the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers.

"These Nightsisters and Nightbrothers are highly trained in both the Force and magicks,” Dooku debriefed the Council. “Our team of Shadows have investigated Mother Talzin and her clans in connection to Senator Palpatine’s assassination and the disappearance of that missing cruise ship. We believe Mother Talzin has been selling the services of the Nightsisters as assassins and mercenaries.”

Dooku’s dark eyes trailed from Master Yoda to Master Windu before settling comfortably on Obi-Wan. The look he gave to the young man was one of chilling mockery. “This assassin must have been hired by an enemy of yours, young Kenobi,” he concluded. “Anyone you can think of?”

Obi-Wan glared in return. “I can name a few," he replied, tersely. 

Dooku looked to all of his fellow Councilors. "I suggest we send the Shadows to investigate Mother Talzin,” he said. “She may be willing to reveal the name if she thinks the Jedi will get deeply involve of their daily lives.”

Obi-Wan clenches his jaw as he grasps at the binders. His muscles tense, coiling in a readiness to steel himself against Dooku. He cannot let Dooku manipulate the truth again. Not this time. Already, there were a few heads nodding in agreement with his deductions, whispers of a mission to Dathomir floating between Councilors. They were falling right back into Dooku’s hands. Again. 

Before Obi-Wan could make his argument, the padawan assistant from outside entered the chamber. She quickly bowed, apologetic for her untimely interruption. “I’m sorry to interrupt Masters,” came the padawan’s unsteady voice. “There is an urgent call from the Chancellor wishing to speak to Master Yoda.”

All eyes refocused to Master Yoda. The wizened Jedi breathed deeply. “Possible to wait, is it?”

“He’s demanding your audience now.”

Master Yoda uttered a long sigh. “Speak to the Chancellor, I will.”

The padawan bowed again and exited between the two Temple Guards. Master Yoda took the floor, requesting to post-pone the session for tomorrow. The Councilors agreed and the session ended without Obi-Wan’s rebuttal. Master Sifo-Dyas re-entered, taking charge of Kenobi. He ordered him out of the chamber, pressing Obi-Wan to follow out the Temple Guards so that the Councilors may leave in peace. 

As Obi-Wan was marched out, he caught a glimpse of Dooku’s face morphing into a proud smug. There was satisfaction in Dooku’s glittering eyes. The Sith Lord managed to deter all of Obi-Wan’s efforts and place blame elsewhere, directing all evidence away from him and Qui-Gon. Another savage victory for the Sith!

The Force, it seemed to Obi-Wan, had abandoned him. 

* * *

Master Yoda sat cross-legged on his ottoman. Eyes lingered out the window, entranced by the busying traffic and the ships flying in and out like stars shooting across the sky. Coruscant. A city of conflictions. A city of the rich and famous. A city of the poor and infamous. A city of wonders to a city of forgotten. A city of hard-workers. A city of crooks. The good. The bad. The beautiful. The ugly. All wrapped up in one city, co-existing in peace. 

For now. 

Master Yoda felt a vergence. A tilt in the Force that dropped a blind. Yoda saw that the Force darkened a little. The Dark Side was rising, building slowly on the edge and gathering. It was of great concern for Yoda. If the Dark Side smothered, then danger there was for not only the Order, but also the Republic. 

His thoughts and worries were brought on by his talk with the Chancellor. The communication lasted for two hours, much longer than Yoda anticipated and it didn’t end terribly well. Therefore, he sat himself up on the ottoman and began meditating. An hour later, he came to the only conclusion that he did not agree with, but had to nonetheless.

A knock came to his door. Yoda didn’t need to ask for the name. He knew who was behind the door. He waved his claw and the door slid opened. Master Windu’s dominating figure took over a portion of Master Yoda’s living space. Master Yoda gestured to one of the chairs. Mace took a seat, folding his legs carefully underneath him. 

They sat in silence for a long minute or two. Master Yoda kept staring out at the city and Mace watched him. Then, with ears bowing down, Yoda sighed. “To the Chancellor, I spoke.”

“And what did he want?” Mace questioned. “Does he have another request?”

Yoda nodded. “Yes. Cause much grief, the request will.”

That got Mace sitting up straight, troubled. “What request, Master Yoda?”

Yoda rotated in his seat, looking up at his young friend. “Brought in a compliant to the Chancellor in regards to Kenobi and Skywalker, Queen Amidala has.”

Mace Windu dropped his legs to the floor. “Queen Amidala? Why?”

“Unlawfully arrested and threatened, she claims the Republic citizens were.”

“Unlawfully arrested and threatened?” Mace repeated, offended. “They are not Republic citizens! This is a Jedi matter.”

“Kenobi is a Jedi not,” Yoda reminded Mace. “Skywalker, nor is. With the Chancellor already discussed the issue.”

Mace bristled, shaking his head in monumental disbelief. “This is a Jedi affair,” he insisted. “I don’t see why the Senate needs to get involved or why the Queen of Naboo is intruding on matters that are not in her jurisdiction.”

Yoda’s sleepy eyes closed for a moment. “Members of her security team, she claimed Kenobi and Skywalker were. That, taken against their will, were they,” he said and he reopened his eyes to still find a scowl twisting Mace Windu’s face. “Requested that Kenobi and Skywalker be released to Queen Amidala, the Chancellor has.”

Yoda watched Mace spring to his feet. “We will not allow it!” he declared. “Kenobi and Skywalker are part of the Jedi jurisdiction. Not the Senate. Their fate lies here.”

“To him at great lengths about it I spoke,” Master Yoda informed Mace, quietly. His voice not once rising at all. “But, threatened to go to the courts, the Chancellor has told me Queen Amidala has.”

Mace’s eyebrows shot high up his forehead, revolted at the notion. “The Courts?” Mace distanced himself from Master Yoda, his mind brooding. “This is a circus! Kenobi is a shut and closed case. He’s guilty for betraying the Order.”

“For what, hmm?” Master Yoda raised. “Allowed to leave, padawans are. His vow he never took.”

Mace circled back. “Don’t tell me you are agreeing. Master Yoda, you of all the Masters have been the most persistent in getting Kenobi back to the Order,” he said. “Now you are willing to release him? After seven years of searching?”

Master Yoda let out a heavy and tired sigh. His tiny shoulders drooped as if the galaxy dropped a planet on top of him. “This is easy for me not,” he admitted. “I meditated and received only one answer in return.”

Mace sat back on the ottoman, intrigued. “Which is?”

Yoda lifted his tired gaze to his old friend. “To speak to young Kenobi first, I need. Only then, my decision clear, will.”

“Kenobi?”

“Troubling times, these are. Growing stronger, the Dark Side is,” Master Yoda confirmed. “Ignore, the appearance of a possible Sith is a threat we cannot.”

Mace withdrawn in a snit, but he did not dare to argue with Yoda’s wisdom. “I’ll contact Master Sifo-Dyas and let him know of your impending arrival.”

“Thank you,” Yoda said with a small smile. Despite the old age, Yoda was light on his feet as he dismounted from his seat. “Go and speak to Kenobi, I must.”


	13. Believe in Me

Obi-Wan Kenobi still wore the same clothes he had worn for the past two days. He laid on the cot, dead to the galaxy. His head was pressed against the wall, trying to get some sense of, well, anything! Enclosed in his personal cell, he lost all sense of time and space. Ripped away from the very fabric of life, Obi-Wan strained to even breathe. Every muscle ached and his fogged mind left him disoriented. A miasma of despair polluted any last sense of hope or happiness he held. He was left with nothing but damnation.

A ploy. This was what Dooku and Qui-Gon wanted from him. They situated him to the brink, leaving them to be his only rescuers. All he had to do was stop fighting. It sounded simple. An easy and quick solution to get him out of the void. It would be a wonderful feeling to get away and to just not care. To sleep blissfully without terrors or visions was a yearning desire, easily accessible if he only took Qui-Gon’s offering hand.

But he won’t. He can’t. It’s the line he would not cross. It was his indefinite sadness.

Compressed in an eternity of numbness and a mind-splitting headache, he missed the sound of his Force shield being deactivated and the door sliding open. When he heard the soft footsteps of someone entering his cell, he believed it to be one of his tormentors.

He kept his mouth pressed, refusing to acknowledge him. He was too damn tired to be civilized and far past caring about consequences.

When the footsteps stopped and no words were exchanged, Obi-Wan hated it more. The silence crawled under his skin and aggravated his soul. “Go away.“

A snap of wood striking the floor jolted Obi-Wan to a sitting position. He slewed around on his cot, his eyes wandering blindly for a moment until his focused cleared and he found Master Yoda standing not only a few feet away.

“Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan hacked, throat too dry that his words cracked over his surprise. “I’m sorry.”

“Your thoughts your tongue flies faster than,” Master Yoda observed.

Obi-Wan slowed to his knees to control the light vertigo that disoriented him. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Hard to think when your head is fogged.”

Master Yoda leaned heavily on his gimer stick, quietly studying him. Obi-Wan realized it had been nine years since he last saw Yoda. Back then, he was an unsure sixteen year old boy, quietly sharing his doubts of his apprenticeship to Master Jinn. Obi-Wan had a vague memory of that boy; youthful, spirited and vigorous in his journey to become a Jedi. Then, he remembered that boy died, replaced with a young man with much sharper and hardened features and a glare that distrusted everyone. He became someone he never dreamed he would become.

Master Yoda probably thought the same thing. After all, Yoda exerted a lot of effort to ensure Obi-Wan was assigned a master. To see his efforts belittled by Obi-Wan’s departure only hurt the Grandmaster even more. Obi-Wan never meant to dishonor everything Yoda had done for him. He only followed the will of the Force as Yoda instructed him to do when he was a youngling. Yet, he got a deep impression that Master Yoda looked on with grave disappointment. Whatever plans he had for Obi-Wan were lost.

Obi-Wan shuddered and dared not to look up. "What brings you to my domain, Master?”

“Your attention I would settle for,” Master Yoda said.

He obliged, raising his eyes from the floor to Yoda. The Grandmaster nodded in appreciation. “Been some time since you and I last spoke, it has,” he commented. “Changed since then, you have. Older. Cynical.”

“Time and experience, I suppose,” Obi-Wan replied as the corners of his cells darkened. “I had to grow up far quicker than expected. And alone for that matter.”

“To be alone, you chose.”

"I chose to save a child,” Obi-Wan quickly confuted, “I know I have made mistakes in my life, Master Yoda. I’ve made far too many to count, but I do not regret what I have done.”

“Happy to leave the Order, you are, hmm?” Master Yoda inquired, surprised. 

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, the passion from before draining from him. He looked to the floor. “I thought being a Jedi was what I was supposed to be,” he began, remembering his dreams when he was an Initiate. He pleaded with Qui-Gon to take him as a padawan, promising to be a great Jedi Knight. Things were different then. The Force changed his destiny. “I worked hard to be the Jedi you wanted me to be. I did. But… I failed. I can’t… doesn’t matter if I wish I could return. I am no longer a Jedi. I cannot be a Jedi.”

“Hmph!” Yoda snorted, twisting the gimer stick in his hand. “You believe that when one leaves the Order, no longer a Jedi, they are, hmm?” He paced in front of Obi-Wan, stick clicking. “A foolish belief. More than just the Order, a Jedi is. Goes straight to our bones. Deep into our very souls.” He raised his gimer stick and pointed it at Obi-Wan’s heart. “We no longer be Jedi, only until we sacrifice it to the Dark Side will.”  

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows, deliberating Yoda’s words. Years after forgoing the Order, he never believed himself to be a Jedi. He never finished his training and he never took the trials. And no matter how many times he recited the Jedi Code, he never believed that it made him a Jedi. Too many things happened for him to claim the title. He had strayed too far from the path. He might not have chosen to follow the ways of the Sith, but he was no Jedi. 

"I’m still not a Jedi.”

Master Yoda furrowed in a calculating observance. “Used the powers of the Dark Side have you, hmm?”

“No, but—”

“Used the Force for selfish wants have you, hmm?”

“Of course not! But that doesn’t make me—”

“Jedi, you are,” Master Yoda declared with a loud whack of his gimer stick against the floor like it was a gavel. “Always a Jedi, you will be. You followed the Force’s command. What it asked you to do, you did.”

Obi-Wan’s cool features were hacked by severe lines of displeasure. “And in return I’m denounced and deemed a traitor,” he huffed and shot up to his feet. A dizzy spell almost put him flat on his back, but he kept himself upright with assistance from the wall. “Hypocrisy is an ugly feature and I think the Council should examine itself for a long time before condemning others.”

He spun on his feet and returned to his cot, collapsing with a loud thud. His head was maddening! No blissfulness to guide him to sleep. Only terrors of the shadows that hid frights in its dark shroud. No peace in mind for him. He kept vigilant, spying firebeetles that nestled in the corners until he looked and then they would vanish. He thought he heard a gundark’s growl under his cot until he checked and saw nothing.

The world around him was mad! And it dragged him into its net, folding him into a compressed state of insanity. 

Obi-Wan dropped his head in his hands, fingers groping his long strands. “I cannot entertain you anymore, Master,” he said as he stared at the floor. “Tell me of the Council’s decision.”

He heard Master Yoda’s gimer stick groan against the stone. “Yet to make a decision, the Council has.”

“Then what the blazes are you doing here?” Obi-Wan had forgone the exchange of civilities. “I said all I needed to say in my sessions. Believe whatever you wish, but I stand by my answers.”  

He wanted Master Yoda to leave him. Not because he was resentful to the old master. Quite the opposite. Master Yoda was a man Obi-Wan believed would be the only Jedi in the Order to believe in his words. After all, Dooku was his padawan. Yoda must have sensed the dark temptations in his old protégé during their years as master and apprentice. But each minute that passed dulled Obi-Wan’s hope and he was left again to fend himself against the enclosing shadows. 

Master Yoda ears drooped, his gimlet eyes falling to his cane. “I know,” he quietly murmured. “Your wisdom I believe in.”

Obi-Wan snapped his head back, his eyes latched onto Master Yoda. He slid back to the floor, kneeling close to the old master to see his face clearly. He studied the Grandmaster, searching for signs of deceit or madness. All he found were traces of hidden burdens flitting across Yoda’s eyes. 

“You… you believe me?” Obi-Wan asked as he looked beseechingly at the Grandmaster for confirmation and reassurance. Hope rekindling the fire in his soul again. “Tell me you believe me!”

Master Yoda’s eyes closed and his shoulders resigned back. He nodded. “I believe you.”

No words could ever describe the exultant feeling that erupted from Obi-Wan. All the haze he felt in his head dissipated and the tightness that cocooned him relaxed. Clarity returned. The weight of trepidation lifted from his heart and he felt a stronger beat in his ribs. Relief rinsed away the fears and struggles, cleansing him in solace. Despite being bound to a cell and the Force snipped away from him, Obi-Wan had never felt freer. 

Master Yoda believed him!

“How? When? I mean… when did you know about Qui-Gon and Dooku?” Obi-Wan asked, still gratifying from Yoda’s agreement.

The room seemed to have lightened up since Obi-Wan’s arrival. The shadows retreated. The air more fresh than its original state of thick and stale. A beacon of light shone down rather than the grim dim it normally bestowed.

Master Yoda drew small circles with his stick. “Changing, I knew my old padawan was. Always an idealist, but with the Order he became quite discontent. He claimed, forgoing its duties in favor of appeasing the Senate, was it,” he said. “I sensed a dark foreboding.” Master Yoda stopped and his gimlet, tired eyes strained. “You left, the Dark Side grew stronger ever since. Covered the Republic, a dark shroud has.”

"I’m aware,” Obi-Wan said. “Even with little access to the Force, I feel a great disturbance is on the horizon. Something bad is going to happen.”

“Take action first unless we.”

Obi-Wan side-glanced at the Grandmaster, assessing the situation. “Dooku and Qui-Gon are too deep in Coruscant. They have ties in the judiciary system and I am certain they have friends in higher places like the Senate.”

There was a sudden twinkle in Master Yoda’s eyes. “As well, it appears you do.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows slanted in muddled thoughts. “I think you’re mistaken.”

Master Yoda held tight to his gimer stick. “To the Chancellor, I spoke,” he said to which Obi-Wan nodded in remembrance. “Demanded for yours and Skywalker’s release, Queen Amidala has.”

Obi-Wan was stunned. "I didn’t ask her to do that.”

“Aware of that I am. Unwelcome and a step out of line for the Senate, her meddling into Jedi affairs is. Support your release the Council will not,” he confirmed Obi-Wan’s disbarment of freedom. “Unlike you, no true jurisdiction over Skywalker, the Order has. Able to leave on his own accord, will he be,” Master Yoda said with a terrible sigh. He looked old and frail, time and stress chipping the Grandmaster in pieces. “Which for us is fortunate. If the Chosen One, Skywalker is, too dangerous for him to be on Coruscant, it is.”

Obi-Wan agreed. Dooku and Qui-Gon would have no difficulties in securing Anakin if he remained on planet. “There is still not enough protection for Anakin on Naboo. The Queen’s power is nothing compared to a Sith Lord. If Anakin goes, they will follow,” Obi-Wan rubbed his now scruffy chin in concentrated thought. “We’ll need diversions of some sort. Move Anakin around the galaxy to keep him safe.”

Master Yoda hummed in thought, peering up at Obi-Wan with distinct sadness. “And what of you?

"I don’t matter,” Obi-Wan brushed away any concerns the old Jedi Master had for him. “They’re not after me. They want Anakin.”

Master Yoda chuffed at Obi-Wan’s insouciance. “You underestimate your importance,” he pointed out. “Let you go, they will not." 

Obi-Wan shrugged, still unconcerned about his predicament. He didn’t matter. Anakin mattered. "I’m nothing to them,” he said, his reality too focused on Anakin’s safety than his own. “I know a person from Mandalore. She’ll be able to assist in relocating Anakin and keeping him safe.”

The Grandmaster’s weathered ears curled forward, discomposed by the former padawan’s nonchalant attitude. “There is another way.”

Obi-Wan cast a circumspect glance at Master Yoda as he tilted back from the master. There was no obvious way other than letting Anakin flee the planet with Queen Amidala. The only other possibility was a consideration Obi-Wan did not want to even discuss. “I won’t have Anakin join—”

Master Yoda smacked Obi-Wan’s shins. “Quiet and listen, you will be,” he commanded and Obi-Wan closed his mouth. “The plan, this is.”

* * *

The next morning, Anakin found himself alone again in the corner of the room. All the other Jedi younglings were practicing their katas. Anakin refused to participate. He told Master Krav and Master Dralig that he wasn’t a Jedi and; therefore, did not need to follow their instructions. That didn’t go over well. Anakin felt their agitation through the Force as they commanded him to stand still in the corner as punishment for disobedience. Not sitting or leaning. He had to stand to his full height and watch. 

Anakin didn’t mind. He was glad to be away from the harsh whispers the other younglings said behind his back. Their words were not kind. They snickered at his suppose boorish behavior and disapproved of his emotional instability. Anakin physically restrained himself from starting up another fight. There was no need to cause any more grief to Obi-Wan. So he had to bear their snickers and whispers. 

He stood in his spot and watched with slight amusement at the Jedi younglings’ failure to complete a simple kata. Obi-Wan taught him that kata last year and Anakin found it simple enough to accomplish it after five attempts. So far, the Jedi younglings were on their twelfth round of the kata and none of them succeeded in completing it. Anakin smirked in triumph at their struggle.

"Why are you not out there, young one?”

Anakin whipped his head around to see Obi-Wan’s Mon Calamari friend standing next to him. Her silver eyes sparkled in the light and her skin shined from the moisture that kept her skin cool. He didn’t think he would ever see her again after she abandoned him to this lot.

He bristled under her gaze and crossed his arms. “I told them I’m not a Jedi and that I don’t have to participate in their teachings.”

Bant, Anakin believed her name to be, glanced from him to the struggling students. “I see,” she noted with delicacy, “but don’t you think it might be useful to learn a few things about the Force? Obi-Wan has told me that you’re Force-sensitive like him.”

Anakin shot his eyes up to Bant. “You spoke to Obi-Wan? Is he okay? Where is he? Where did they take him?”

Bant blinked rapidly at the quick succession of questions. “Slow down, young one,” she murmured. “Yes—I spoke to Obi-Wan yesterday. He’s okay. He actually wished to know how you are doing. I would hate to report back that you were placed in time-out for poor behavior.”

“Then don’t tell him,” Anakin suggested. “Tell him that I miss him and that I want to see him.”

“I think he knows that,” Bant confided to him and her hand brushed his arm. “I’m sure you and him will see each other soon. Why not impress him with learning more about the Force?”

Anakin looked to the struggling younglings. A few glanced in their direction with a questionable wonderment as to why a padawan was visiting him. “I already know this,” he said to Bant. “Obi-Wan taught it to me last year.”

Bant leaned back in bewilderment. “Did you? That’s a difficult kata for a human at your age.”

Anakin took her statement as a challenge. He spaced himself from the wall and with more grace than the other younglings, he performed the kata to perfection. He straightened himself up and looked to Bant in smug pride. The Mon Calamari padawan had her mouth gaped opened. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, impressed. “You are far more talented that I credited.”

“Obi-Wan says that if I keep up with practice then I might be able to beat him in a duel,” Anakin said, proudly. His grin widened at the prospect of becoming as powerful as Obi-Wan. “Can you imagine that? Obi-Wan is a really good fighter. Have you ever seen him in a fight?”

He could almost see the memories fluttered in Bant’s silver eyes. Memories of the past when Obi-Wan was a member of this elitist group. “I’ve seen him spar when he was younger,” she finally said, her words somewhat unsteady as if hard to digest. “He was good then too.”

That was right. Obi-Wan grew up in this fortress. He looked back to the Initiates and he pictured a very young Kenobi standing out there with them, learning the same katas. He was surrounded by friends. Shelter and food was provided for him and small comforts were given rather than sought. No one was hunting him. He didn’t have to fight for his life. And he didn’t have to raise a boy while running. Here, he could have been a bit more carefree, enjoying less responsibilities and living in a more comfortable environment.

Yet, Obi-Wan gave it all up. For him. 

Anakin sunk back to the wall’s shadows. “I forget that he grew up here,” he admitted to Bant. “What was he like? As a boy?”

“As a boy?” Bant repeated, tilting her head in reflection. “Very much like he is now. Headstrong, loyal, bold and on occasion, annoying as hell.” She spoke with a fond smile like she came across a funny memory. “I had the urge to push him into the artificial river on several occasions.”

Anakin slanted his eyebrows, befuddled. “Really? What did he do?”

“Oh… nothing _too_ serious,” Bant assured him. “It was his silver tongue that got him into trouble—or out of it.” Bant paused for a moment, a misty haze covering those silver irises. Then she looked back down, beaming at Anakin. “He was a lot like you.”

“Me?” Anakin didn’t believe that at all. Obi-Wan was his complete opposite. He preferred simple things rather than thrills. Obi-Wan never engaged in any highly adventurous stunts like Anakin. He was far more responsible and stricter on rules. Uptight, serious and cautious are the words Anakin would describe Obi-Wan. “I think we are discussing different people.”

Bant chuckled as if Anakin's analysis was an attempt of a joke. “I think you are only looking at the surface, young one,” she said after a moment. “Yes, Obi-Wan tends to be on the more serious side and he enjoys far simpler things like reading or meditating, but he craves adventure. He was like that even as a boy. Always wanting to prove to people that he could be a great Jedi. He would duel padawans that were much older than him and even Masters.

"Also, he cared deeply for people,” Bant said, her words a mere caress than a hard statement. “He would do whatever he could for his friends. Wore his heart on his sleeve. He was reprimand for it by the Council a few times. But, that was Obi-Wan. He appears aloof and cold at times, but in all honesty, that’s his way of hiding his emotions.”

In all his life, not once did he ever recognized those traits within Obi-Wan Kenobi. He knew Obi-Wan was wise, caring and brave, but the way Bant described him, Anakin never would have thought of it. But, as he reexamined his guardian, he saw the same things Bant described. There were hints of boldness in his escape plans. He refused to be beaten by either the Jedi, Sith and bounty hunters who confronted them. And he loved Anakin enough to sacrifice his home—his life—to raise him. 

Maybe they were far more alike than Anakin ever credited. It would make sense. Obi-Wan did raise him. Anakin was bound to pick up a few traits from the man. “I never thought of it like that,” Anakin said to Bant. “I knew he cared for me, but he was always serious around me that I never noticed.”

Bant rested her hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “That’s because he cares for you. He’s too worried that he’ll screw up,” she commented. “Obi-Wan will always do the best he can, but even then he thinks it’s not enough. The poor man suffers so much from his own mind than his actual enemies.”

A sound of a whistle blew and all the Jedi Initiates stopped their kata practices. Master Dralig, red hair tied in a ponytail, huddled them up to speak. Anakin didn’t move to join the group. He opted to stay with Bant. “Obi-Wan told me that you stopped talking after a while,” Anakin said, surprising the Mon Calamari. “Are you mad at him for that?”

Bant twisted her hands. “I—that’s a complicated question. I was never mad at him,” she explained. “Hurt? Yes. I had hoped we would always be friends, but then I lost contact with him for nine years and to be frank, it felt awful not being able to talk to him.”

“Why didn’t you com him?” Anakin questioned. She knew his number, so why didn’t she commed him? “Why didn’t you try to find him?”

“That’s a long story, Anakin,” Bant said. “Also, I think for seven of those nine years, Obi-Wan wanted to stay hidden from the Jedi.”

“But what about those two years?” Anakin grilled her. He wanted to know why Obi-Wan’s friends abandoned him to his fate with Qui-Gon and Dooku. “Didn’t you know he was struggling?”

“I—I knew he was having problems with Qui-Gon, but things like that happen during teenage years,” Bant said with an uneasy voice. It was clear she was distraught about the subject. Her silver eyes looked to the floor in torment. “Friction could occur between a padawan and a master. That’s normal. It was happening to Obi-Wan…”

“That’s not what Obi-Wan told me.”

Bant bowed her head. “I know,” she said, her gills flared outward. “I know.”

Anakin wanted to press her, but Master Krav returned to the corner. Her arrival officially ended their conversation. Bant erased her distress, replacing it with a content, friendly demeanor. “Good morning, Master Krav.”

“Morning, Padawan Eerin,” Master Krav returned, not looking entirely pleased with Bant’s interference with Anakin’s punishment. “I need to take Skywalker with us.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped. He would rather stay with Bant than go with the other younglings to whatever their next destination was. But, in this prison, he had no choice. He gave an apologetic wave to Bant. “Thanks for talking to me,” he said. “If you see Obi-Wan—”

The doors opened and a gangly figure stumbled across the threshold. Head thrashed from side to side, scanning the room until its eyes rested in happy relief on Anakin. An easy, lopsided grin greeted him. “Anakin,” came the familiar voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Anakin looked on, stunned at the sudden appearance of his guardian. Then, his frozen captivity relinquished and Anakin, without any forethought or decorum, rushed to Obi-Wan in a tornado speed of force. “Obi-Wan!”

He slammed into Obi-Wan, arms locked behind Obi-Wan’s back. He buried his face into Obi-Wan’s chest, consoled on the fact that Obi-Wan was standing before him. It wasn’t a figment of imagination or a vision. He could hear Obi-Wan’s feathered heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breathing. He was alive and holding him in a caring embrace.

Anakin lifted his head to look into Obi-Wan’s amused expression. “You’re here!” he told him. “You found me!”

Obi-Wan could only laugh. “Yes, yes, I found you,” he agreed and he tried to break Anakin’s grip. But, Anakin refused to budge. If he let go, he may lose Obi-Wan again.

Obi-Wan sighed, exasperated. “You can let go of me, Anakin. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tentatively, Anakin pried his fingers apart and freed Obi-Wan from his grip. He took note of the dishevel appearance. The messy hair, bagged eyes, pale and taunt skin and the overall sickly exterior riled Anakin. They tortured him! Anakin easily sensed it through Obi-Wan’s dimmed, somewhat muted Force presence. They hurt his only family member, leaving him in a weak state that looked wrong on Obi-Wan. He was always so strong and resilient that his fatigue and sickly nature looked like a horrible carbon copy of the dead.

Anakin wanted to ask how Obi-Wan what happened to him and how he managed to be free from the Shadow’s captivity when Master Krav stepped beside him. “Kenobi,” she said, suspiciously. “I wasn’t aware you were granted freedom to roam the Temple.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Obi-Wan confirmed to the distrustful master. “Only given permission to seek out my ward.”

“Master Yoda and the Council are aware of this?” Master Krav challenged.

“Master Yoda granted it,” Obi-Wan informed the suspicious master. Obi-Wan then nudged his head behind him. Anakin looked over and spotted two Temple Guards. “I have a personal escort to see to our departure.”

Anakin straightened, his feet rocking on his toes. Did Obi-Wan say ‘departure’? “Does that mean we can leave?” he asked, his eyes brightening to a majestic blue in the flames of hope.

Obi-Wan took Anakin by his shoulders and, with a wry grin, asked. “How do you feel about returning to Naboo?”

Anakin’s face split into the widest smile ever that his cheeks burned. “We’re going to see Padmé again?”

Obi-Wan nodded, a corner of his mouth twisted ruefully. “Yes, apparently, she missed us terribly,” he said. “We are to depart in an hour.”

Anakin couldn’t restrain his excitement. He jumped in jubilation of being free from the enemy. “Yippee! Let’s go now!” he snatched Obi-Wan’s hand and tugged him to the exit. 

Obi-Wan resisted. “Hold on, Anakin,” he said. “Don’t you need to gather your belongings?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Don’t you wish to say good-bye?" 

Anakin glanced from Obi-Wan to his fellow peers that stood off to the side, watching the reunion in quiet criticism and distrust. He didn’t care to say goodbye to any of them. If anything, he would say good riddance. He looked back to Obi-Wan with thin line and a hard shake of his head. "No.”

Obi-Wan exhaled at the lack of manners, but Anakin cared less. They were leaving. They were never going to see this group self-righteous fools ever again. But, Obi-Wan felt obligated to do their good-byes. “Sorry for Anakin’s poor manners,” Obi-Wan addressed to Master Krav. “Thank you for taking care of him in my absence. Much appreciated and I hope he didn’t give you a hard time.” Obi-Wan then turned to Bant without waiting for Master Krav to respond. “Bant—thank you.”

Bant, who stayed off to the side in quiet reflection, stepped up with a warming presence upon seeing an old friend again. “I guess this is good-bye then?” There was a sadness in her words. A terrible expectation that she realized and accepted.

“Not forever, old friend,” Obi-Wan replied with the same warmth. 

They shared a hug, an affection Anakin was not expecting. Their friendship was deeper than Anakin believed it to be. It lasted not long before Obi-Wan parted away from her, a sad smile etched on Bant’s face as Obi-Wan stepped away. “May the Force be with you.”

Bant’s eyes held unshed tears. “And also with you.”

It was that goodbye that Obi-Wan bowed before the Jedi respectively and turned to lead Anakin out of the room. Anakin nearly skipped beside Obi-Wan, ignoring the trailing Temple Guards who followed them with clanking armor and electric prods. He was overtly happy to be back in Obi-Wan’s care and that he was going to see Padmé again. 

The galaxy had turned itself right back up. And, Anakin was thrilled beyond his dreams. They have beaten the Jedi Order and were free men. They were returning home. 


	14. The Return

Qui-Gon sat scrunched in one of the Archive’s small alcoves. He had the datapad propped on his knee and studying the files he downloaded. He scanned the screen, searching through the files for any evidence to support his theory. For four hours, he studied the details of different researches and cases. He contemplated over the writings that detailed experiences and experiments with Force bonds.

According to the writings, a Force bond’s strength depended on the two individuals’ power with the Force. Qui-Gon reviewed Revan’s notes the Jedi Masters secured after Revan’s death. It appeared Revan had a great interest in Force bonds and deeply examined its formations and techniques, theorizing that the Jedi would never reach their full Force potential due to their lack of passion. The more passion a Jedi had, the stronger the connection. 

Qui-Gon rested his chin in his hand as he reclined in his seat. His mind mulled over his research, comparing notes and thoughts with Anakin's and Obi-Wan’s Force bond. He’s been considering it since their meeting on Tatooine. There was something far beyond the normal Force bond between those two. Something he believed even Revan would have desired. Qui-Gon let out a long sigh, imagining the possibilities Anakin’s and Obi-Wan’s Force bond could do. The possibilities the two of them could accomplished if guided accordingly.

There was a light tap above his head and Qui-Gon looked up from his datapad. It was Jocasta Nu. 

Qui-Gon quickly powered down his datapad. “Master Nu?” he said, looking up at the Archive master. “How are you doing this fine morning?”

“I’m doing well, thank you, Qui-Gon,” Master Nu said and he noticed a shade of regret in those old eyes. “How are you holding up?”

An odd and curious question from Master Nu. She was a strict lady who cared more about the conditions of the archives than the readers. Her interest in his well-being unnerved him. Something was off. “I’m doing well,” he replied, slipping the datapad in his over-sized robe pockets and he reinforced his shields. “Been doing some research here and there.”

Master Nu nodded. Again, she acted sorrowful. “Yes—something to keep your mind off of young Kenobi.”

If only, Qui-Gon thought. All he’s been doing was making preparations for both Obi-Wan and Anakin once they get them away from the Temple. “Something like that,” he answered.

Master Nu sighed, drawing her eyes down in sympathy. “Must be difficult for you. Having him here and watching him go again,” she said, rubbing Qui-Gon’s shoulder for comfort. “I’m surprised you’re here. I figured you would be at the hanger or arguing with the Council.”

Qui-Gon scrutinized her with curious slits. “What are you talking about?”

Master Nu stepped back, eyebrows lifting in surprised confusion. “Don’t you know?” she asked tentatively. The silence hung afterward, a biting retaliation growing. Master Nu realized her mistake. “You don’t know. Qui-Gon—I’m so sorry! Kenobi and Skywalker were released this morning.”

Qui-Gon lunged out of the alcove. He knocked Jocasta Nu aside as he sprinted out of the Archives, his robes billowing behind him. Every Jedi in his path stepped aside quickly to avoid being run over, but Qui-Gon cared less. Focused on his anger and destination, he didn’t see anyone or anything until he arrived outside his Master’s door. He didn’t ring. He memorized Dooku’s passcode and invited himself into the pristine apartment. 

The door swooped open and Qui-Gon caught sight of Dooku. His frustration boiled to the top. Qui-Gon strode in, intense frown conveying his severe displeasure at the betrayal. Dooku looked up from where sat, dark eyes glaring up in warning at Qui-Gon, but the younger Sith damned the consequences. 

“Is it true?” Qui-Gon grilled. “Obi-Wan? Anakin? Are they gone?”

Dooku inhaled deeply and inclined against his couch. “Yes,” he replied, coolly. “They left earlier this morning.”

Qui-Gon slammed his eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he held the lid on his vengeful anger. “How could you let them go?” he demanded. “Was that the plan? To let them escape?”

The corner of Dooku’s mouth twisted. “Of course not! I had no partake in such actions. No one in the Council did,” he said, rising to his feet and moving to the cabinet where he cared for his liquor stash. “Master Yoda made the arrangements on his own. The Council wasn’t aware of it until Kenobi and Skywalker departed.”

“Where did they go? We could possibly send out a bounty hunter or even Ventress if necessary—”

“I’m afraid, Qui-Gon,” Dooku interrupted him as he poured himself a glass of Corellian brandy, “it’s not going to be that easy.”

Qui-Gon eyed his master. “Why not?”

“Because Kenobi and Skywalker joined up with Queen Amidala,” he answered and he turned around with a glass in hand. “They are returning to Naboo.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Qui-Gon said, confused by Dooku’s disappointment. “We can have the Trade Federation secure them until our arrival. And we would be getting the Queen’s signature as well.”

“It sounds great,” Dooku agreed, but Qui-Gon got the feeling Dooku did not quite agree. “Except the fact Master Yoda was involved in this transaction.” Dooku took a drink, vexed. “He’s onto us. I sense a dangerous plot forming.”

Qui-Gon buried his face in his hand. “Your paranoia with Master Yoda is going to ruin us.”

Dooku slammed the glass down. “And your lack of precaution will!” he snapped. “This is a plot to lure us out of hiding. No—we cannot fall right into their hands.” He returned to the couch, sitting down as he looked over the datapads that covered his low table. He picked one up and tapped away. “I’ve spent the last hour looking over our trajectory and I have a possible solution to our problem.”

Qui-Gon ran his hand along his jawline. “And what is that?”

Dooku lowered the datapad, stern eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at Qui-Gon’s tall frame. “A misdirection that will remove many of our problems.”

* * *

“Why are they here?”

Anakin frowned at Master Rhara and Padawan Muln from where he and Obi-Wan sat in the Nubian ship. Obi-Wan didn’t glance up from the datapad he reviewed. He swiped to the next page, reading up on the Trade Federation. “The Council assigned them as representatives of the Order,” Obi-Wan explained, studying the Trade Federation’s trading operations. “The Senate requested Jedi to tag along as well.”

Anakin kicked his feet underneath the table, his feet tapping against the Obi-Wan’s shins. “I don’t trust them.”

Obi-Wan looked over the datapad to Anakin. “They’re not bad people Anakin,” he said. “The Jedi are respectable. Guardians of the peace and justice of the Republic.”

Anakin snorted in disbelief. “Then why did they attack us?” he challenged. “If they are so-called ‘guardians’, why did they kill my mother?”

“They didn’t kill your mother,” Obi-Wan corrected quietly. “That was the Sith.”

“Sith? Jedi? They seem the same to me,” Anakin shrugged and he glared at Garen’s back as the padawan descended into the cockpit. “Besides, what can they do to help? I overheard Jedi don’t fight in wars.”

“We’re not entering a war.”

“Aren’t we preparing for battle? That’s what Padmé said.”

They were heading off to battle. After leaving the Order, they met with Queen Amidala. She looked different from the Padmé they knew back on Tatooine. With the extravagant wardrobe and zealous make-up, she looked like a proper regal leader than the peasant girl Anakin admired. She was happy to see them, but their reunion was short lived as they were on a strict time table. Padmé informed them of the Senate’s deliberation and lack of action, deciding she could no longer stay away from her planet. She was returning to Naboo to repel the Trade Federation and needed all the assistance she could gather. That included Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. 

Obi-Wan let out a weary sigh. He powered down the datapad. “We are most likely entering a suicide mission, but the Jedi are not here to fight,” he established as Anakin leaned in to listen. “They are here to protect the Queen and to learn more about the woman who attacked us.”

“She’s a Sith!” Anakin hissed, arms crossed. “What’s more to know?”

“She’s not a Sith, Anakin. Not yet anyway,” Obi-Wan added and he thought about the Dathomirian woman. She wasn’t a Sith, but Dooku was training her to become one. “She may be waiting for us on Naboo. This could be her trials to move up a rank.”

“Move up a rank? What does that mean?”

Obi-Wan contemplated for a moment before shrugging. “Could mean anything,” he said, knowing that it meant death.

Anakin shivered, goosebumps running up his arm. “I forgot how cold space is.”

Space? Or did Anakin sense the darkness that pressed them on all sides? “Need a blanket?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Yet Anakin scooted closer to Obi-Wan. His head rested against Obi-Wan’s arm, eyes questionably wondering from the tea Queen Amidala insisted they had to the cockpit door. The door suddenly opened and Master Rhara stepped out. Her eyes scanned the corridor for a moment before they landed on Obi-Wan. She strode over and Anakin abruptly sat up, eyes dropped to slits as he glared.

Master Rhara’s brow wrinkled in disturbance at Anakin’s glare as she addressed Obi-Wan. “Kenobi, I am hoping I can have a private audience with you to discuss strategy.”

Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat, head tilted to look up into Master Rhara’s eyes. “Master Rhara, I would be more than happy to discuss, but I am not the head of security. That belongs to Captain Panaka. He’s calling the shots. You’ll need to speak to him.”

Master Rhara nodded understandably. “I’ll go seek out Captain Panaka then,” she said. “Would you then be kind enough to assist Garen in the piloting?”

“I don’t think—”

“Thank you,” decided Master Rhara without listening or even giving a second glance. She walked down the corridor to search for Captain Panaka, leaving Obi-Wan no choice but to join the cockpit. 

Obi-Wan huffed before nudging Anakin. “Come on! Looks like we are needed.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but he followed Obi-Wan to the cockpit. When they entered they received an annoyed scoff. Garen was obviously not too pleased to see them. Obi-Wan gestured for Anakin to take the co-pilot seat as he chose to sit behind them. Garen had yet to say a word to them. It was an awkward silence, filled with tension and pain. Garen focused on the control panel with Anakin sitting near the edge of his seat, leaning away from the Jedi. The bitter resentment that encroached the Force unsettled Obi-Wan. He had no plans to cause enmity between them prior to a major battle. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

“So, um, Anakin,” Obi-Wan began to bridge the antagonized gap. “Garen here is a license pilot. One of the best in the Jedi Order, am I right?” He directed the last to Garen, who kept his head forward so that Obi-Wan addressed his the back of his head. 

Anakin flickered a dubious glance to Garen. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Garen. It was almost as if his words were simple moans from the ship during flight.

Obi-Wan quietly soughed in exasperation. “You still want to be an ace starpilot, Garen?” he asked, pleasant enough. “Anakin here wants to be a pilot too.”

Garen hit a button. Still silent.

Obi-Wan remained persistent. “Anakin? Why don’t you tell Garen about your win at the Boonta Eve race?”

Anakin peeved at Obi-Wan. He knew exactly what Obi-Wan was attempting. “Why? He doesn’t care.”

Obi-Wan glared, a scolding running along their bond. Anakin pouted, emotions ready to outright reject Obi-Wan’s command. After another silent argument, Anakin forfeited and turned to Garen. “I won the race,” he said, flatly. No excitement like he usually had when retelling a victory of his. “First time driving a pod and I won. Have you ever piloted a pod before? No human can handle their speeds, but me.”

Garen side-glanced, his jawline more definite than it was before. “If you can do it, then I am sure I can.”

“I doubt that,” Anakin said, chin jerked up in confidence and wounded pride. “Already you’re struggling with this ship. It’s has a 327 core hyperdrive, making it a 1.8 hyperdrive speed and you have it going as if it has a 2.5 hyperdrive speed.”

“This isn’t a race,” Garen grunted. “We are going the speed needed to stay under the radar.”

Anakin reached over the control panel and tapped a few of the buttons and flipped switches. Garen reacted accordingly—alarmed and dismayed. 

“What are you doing?” he shouted, reaching over to stop Anakin, but the boy was done. 

“I just scrambled the signal, so the Trade Federation won’t be able to track us,” Anakin said. “Now, we can get there faster and help people.”

Garen’s teeth grated. “Faster only equivalents to recklessness,” he lectured. “And being reckless gets people hurt. Right, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked away from Garen’s condemning stare. He wrapped his arms around his body and slacked in his seat as he took in Garen’s accusation, mulling over the conversation. “Recklessness can get people hurt,” Obi-Wan agreed, rubbing a thumb underneath his chin. “But, people can be hurt too if we chose to wait or do nothing. And isn’t that the reason we are on this ship? The Naboo needs our help and they cannot wait for the Senate to make a decision two weeks away.

"So in conclusion,” Obi-Wan said, looking back to Garen and Anakin. “Both of you are right. We must not act rashly, but we cannot always stay cautious. Listen to the Force and we can never go wrong.”

Garen snorted sardonically. “If I didn’t know any better, you almost sound like a Jedi,” he riposted, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “But don’t delude yourself. You’re no Jedi. ”

There went the terse civilized conversation. Anakin’s cheeks grew velvet, fuming at Garen. “Good! I’m glad Obi-Wan left your lot,” he stated. “The Jedi are just a bunch of hypocrites anyway.”

Garen’s shoulders went tight. His hold on the controls twisted in a stronger grip and his breathing got heavier when he glanced irritably at Anakin. “I see Obi-Wan taught you the best of manners.”

“Better than yours,” Anakin snarked in return.

Garen and Anakin continued their joust, giving Obi-Wan a pulsating headache. His fingers massaged his forehead, but the argued words between Garen and Anakin beat into his head. Cracking the foundations of what should be a reasonable team to a volcanic expulsion. A fiery storm brewed around Anakin. A thunderous cloud ready to strike lightening and Garen was a sea, normally calm until the storm upset it. 

And a tidal wave just crashed when Garen snapped. “Obi-Wan! Tell your brat to shut-up.”

Anakin shot to his feet, static forming within the Force. A bolt of lightning ready to strike. 

Obi-Wan thought quickly. He dropped a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, drawing him back from Garen as he spoke. “Anakin, why don’t you tell the Queen we will be arriving at 1300 hours?”

Anakin glared from Obi-Wan to Garen. He knew a dismissal when received. “Fine!” he grumbled, heading to the cockpit door. “Can’t wait until we can go back home.”

He stomped away and Obi-Wan heard his footsteps for a long while after the boy left. He would need to get Anakin to meditate before they joined Padmé in rescuing Naboo. He needed to find balance again or else the storm would be too destructive to everyone around him. 

He would worry about Anakin later. Right now, he needed to speak to Garen. Obi-Wan moved up to Anakin’s former seat, settling in as he gave his old friend a disapproval frown. “You didn’t have to be mean to him.”

Garen half-shrugged, uncaring at Obi-Wan’s point. “Maybe you should have taught him better manners.”

“You provoked him.”

“That only means you didn’t train him well enough to control his emotions.”

Obi-Wan restrained himself from rolling his eyes. A juvenile trait was best for younglings. Not a young man like himself. Instead, he just gave a small shake of his head. “You’re not mad at Anakin. You’re mad at me,” he concluded, his eyes rolled to Garen. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t take it out on him.”

“And I would appreciate if you didn’t spread lies about the Jedi,” Garen spat in return. “We’ve already have enough bad publicity because of you.”

“I didn’t spread lies about the Jedi! I did as the Force told me,” Obi-Wan argued, too tired to get into the same argument he’s been having the past three days. “Just—if you have a problem with me, take it out on me. Not Anakin.”

Garen scoffed, the corners of his mouth curling in a snarl. “You’re right. I am mad. You betrayed the Order. You turned your back and went against everything we were taught and yet,” He drew a long, unsteady breath. Eyes closed, Garen reached for the Force for stability. “Yet… Master Yoda clings onto this hope for you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose up, mystified. “I don’t know what you mean.” But he did know. He knew Master Yoda believed him in regards to Qui-Gon and Dooku. He could not let Garen know that. Master Yoda insisted on secrecy. 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Garen peered crossly at Obi-Wan. “Of all the Jedi, Master Yoda is the only Jedi to not denounce you. He always kept faith that you would return. Even after all the things you did, the Grandmaster still trusts you. Do you know how conflicting that is for the rest of us? Do you? No? Well—it questions everything we are meant to uphold!”

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat, ruffled by the discord he created within the Jedi Order. “I didn’t mean—”

“You never mean to do anything! You do whatever you want and damn the consequences for the rest of us!”

Anyone who knew Obi-Wan the past seven years would have immediately disagreed with Garen’s assessment. Obi-Wan sacrificed enough of his life and dreams to keep himself and Anakin alive. He burdened himself with the tasks that no former padawan should take on. It cost him dearly, but he never regretted it. Garen could blame him for all the sorrows that has befallen on the Order, but it would have happened with him there or not. Qui-Gon and Dooku would have destroyed the Order and the Republic, but Obi-Wan prevented them from doing it sooner. And if all goes to plan, he would expose their true identities and save this galaxy from falling into their hands. 

For now, he needed to save this fragile friendship. Or at least what was left of it.

Obi-Wan turned in his seat so that he faced Garen. He leaned over, head slightly bowed in repentance. “I’m sorry my presence in your life has brought you pain. That was never my intention. I only ever did as needed,” he said and flipped his gaze from the floor to Garen’s face. “I’m sorry, old friend. I know asking for forgiveness is a long shot, but I do hope we can make some reasonable peace for the sake of this mission. If only to ensure the Queen’s success.”

Obi-Wan stuck out his hand to Garen, a pleading stare to accept. “Peace?”

Garen eyed the hand skeptically, unsure if it was a trick. It’s been years the two have bonded and trusted one another. For Garen, this could be another lie. Obi-Wan only hoped he didn’t believe it to be.

It was another moment before Garen reluctantly shook his hand. “Fine. I’ll be cordial.”

“It’s all I ask,” Obi-Wan said, an old smile gracing his face. A small truce of peace was a great victory for him. Even if it was between him and an old friend. 

* * *

Maul strode across the great hall toward the hanger. His ship was packed and stocked, ready for the journey to Naboo. His lightsaber tapped gently against his thigh as he whisked himself away. He had yet to learn the patience of his masters. But in time, he would learn and train hard to become the rightful apprentice. Already, Ventress failed her trials, earning their masters’ scorn for her inability to get the job done. Maul had no plans to fail. He would succeed where she failed and earn the title as apprentice. 

A jolt of excitement ran through him at the sight of his ship. He exhaled sharply and satisfaction permeated his face. Heat rose inside him and he felt nothing but furious pleasure. This was his mission to accomplish. He was going to be the menace of the Jedi. The destroyer of the Order. Most important was that he was going to take that long coveted position of apprentice from Kenobi. 

He was going to be the destruction of the Republic!

“You are far too happy for your own good.”

Maul snarled and turned to see Ventress approaching. Her lips thin and eyes narrowed in deadly slits as she glared at him. Maul held his position, undisturbed by her appearance. “I’ve been given a mission,” he said. “I am to depart soon.”

Ventress leaned up against a storage box, arms crossed as she observed him. She resented the master’s favoritism over her and Maul couldn’t help but feel an edge of victory. Ventress frowned at Maul. “To Naboo, I imagine.”

“I am to finish what you failed to do,” Maul boasted. “I will kill the Queen, the Jedi and if necessary, Kenobi as well.”

Maul noticed the aggravation that contorted Ventress. She dropped her hands to her hips, right next to her lightsabers as she snarled, “Kenobi is mine Maul! Mine! If anyone gets to kill him, it’s me!”

Maul scoffed at her primitive declaration. A blinded fool. “You had your chance. You failed. You only proved to our masters that their time was wasted.”

Two lightsabers ignited and threatened death to Maul. Ventress leaned in, hissing. “Care to prove that theory?”

Maul didn’t even flinch at the sight of the lightsabers. “You already did that for me,” he pointed. “I no longer have time for your fragile ego.”

Maul strode past Ventress and headed straight to his ready ship. He walked up the ramp, his excitement rampant. In a few hours from now, he would expose himself and show the might of the Sith against the Jedi. He would prove his worth to his masters by presenting the blood of the Queen and Jedi. He would defeat Kenobi and capture Skywalker, showing his superiority over the runaway runt. 

He closed the ramp and sat in the pilot seat. He set up the coordinates and steadied the ship out of the hanger. The wild fury in his soul wreaked havoc and he had the greatest urge to bathe in the blood of his enemies.

Flickers of yellow glimmered in his eyes as the anticipation build. In a few short hours, he will become the Sith Apprentice he was meant to become. 

And it was to start and end in, of all places, the peaceful planet of Naboo. 


	15. Counter-Attack

Anakin’s trick of jumbling their signal was a blessing. 

The Trade Federation were quite aware that they landed, but their actual location was secretive thanks to Anakin’s assistance. Despite the discreet landing, Master Rhara insisted the Queen’s entourage abandoned the ship. Captain Panaka led the way through the thick forest, blaster out and ready for any enemy soldiers. Padmé was no longer dressed in her regal attire. Rather, her trusted handmaiden, Sabé, was donning the Queen’s clothes while Padmé and the other handmaidens dressed in functional trousers, tunics, boots and a deep purple-red, long-waisted overcoat. Strapped along their waist were blasters. Armed and dangerous. 

Obi-Wan still wore the clothes provided to him by the Jedi Order. Anakin too. They could easily be mistaken as Jedi if it weren’t for the fact that Obi-Wan was armed with his own blaster, provided by Captain Panaka. The head security wasn’t thrilled to hand over an active blaster to him. He disagreed with Queen Amidala’s insistence to bring Obi-Wan and Anakin into the fight. His distrust was pungent in the Force, but Obi-Wan held no animosity. Already, he has dealt with several people’s anger and he had no desire to lament over Captain Panaka.

Anakin stayed by his side, armed only with the Force. Captain Panaka refused to give him a weapon as he was only a child. Anakin scrunched up his nose in retaliation, reminding the captain that he saved them from Naboo with his own blaster the first time they met. That didn’t convince the captain and Anakin ended up staying beside Obi-Wan during their trek through the woods.

Anakin looked wildly around the woods with a great smile on his face. “I know this is a stressful time, but I can’t help but feel happy to be home.”

Obi-Wan glanced down. “Home?”

“Yeah,” Anakin said. “Since the Jedi released us, we’re free! We don’t have to keep running and Padmé will protect us too.”

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. “If you like to live in Naboo, I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

A small sigh of blissfulness escaped. “It feels right. Here, I mean. Being here feels like home,” Anakin said. “Don’t you think?”

Obi-Wan thought so too. Naboo has been nothing but peaceful during their months of living in the small mountain village. It was the normalcy they both craved and possessed until the invasion. Of all the planets Obi-Wan lived, Naboo did feel the most like home.

Captain Panaka signaled everyone to stop. Obi-Wan whispered to Anakin to stay beside the Queen. Anakin backtracked while Obi-Wan moved forward, joined by both Jedi. “What happened?”

Captain Panaka gestured northwest. Obi-Wan spied a massive tank position on the outskirts of Theed. It wasn’t aimed at them, but it could be if they were spotted. Slowly, the backtracked to the rest of the group and convened on what to do next.

“Is there no way around the tank?” asked Master Rhara. 

Captain Panaka was thinking. "Not without taking it out,“ he said. "Unfortunately that would alert the Trade Federation of our location and they’ll send the droid army our way.”

Obi-Wan agreed. Any massive explosion or firefight would alert the Trade Federation of their location and endanger the Queen. He peeked at Padmé, who thought with a great deal of concentration and burden. Fourteen and already in charge of an entire planet’s safety. She had no army. No government support. She had no chance. All she had was hope. Obi-Wan could see it in her eyes. The blinding hope that spirited the fire within her.

Captain Panaka exhaled deeply after reporting the odds against them. “Your Highness, without assistance,” he began. “We have little chance to do anything. Our best bet is to get control of the tank and used that to barge our way into the city.”

Padmé frowned, not pleased with the option. “Is there no other way?”

Master Rhara stepped beside Captain Panaka. “Your Majesty, without more assistance, I fear that this is a battle you cannot win.”

Padmé was undeterred. Her eyes snapped to Obi-Wan. “What do you think, Obi-Wan?”

Suddenly everyone turned. One by one, different pair of eyes found him amongst the circle. All staring in either great interest or in skepticism. He felt a nudging of encouragement from Anakin, persuading him to speak. But, Obi-Wan had to think. He agreed that it was a highly dangerous mission. One wrong move and it was all over. Everything had to be precise. He did not believe taking control of the tank would do them any good. It would only signal their location. There was, however, one more way to enter the city.

“We could use the tunnels underneath Theed to enter discreetly,” Obi-Wan offered.

Captain Panaka shot him a look. “Those tunnels are out of commission. They haven’t been used in centuries.”

“Doesn’t mean they still aren’t usable.”

Master Rhara was puzzled. “What tunnels?”

Obi-Wan looked to her and Garen. “During the formation of Theed, the city’s engineers constructed underground tunnels in case the city needed to be evacuated. However, there has never been a need for them, so they been left untended. It’s sort of become an old legend.”

Padmé was thinking. “If we use these tunnels, we can get into the city undetected,” she looked around for a moment until her eyes landed on a blue droid. “Artoo? Bring up a map of the old tunnels.”

Artoo-Detoo chirped and projected a map that had a series of trails running along underneath the Naboo capital. Obi-Wan observed the project. “Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “If my memory serves me right, there are a few entrances on the outskirts.” He pointed to the far end of Artoo’s projection, just right at the corner. “This one may be our closest.”

Captain Panaka’s hard stare was suspicious. “How do you even know about the tunnels?”

Obi-Wan flickered a glance to the stone-faced captain. “I read,” he deadpanned and returned his focus to Padmé. “Once we enter the city, we will need to act fast.”

“If we face the droid army—” Garen began.

“We don’t need to face off against the entire army,” Obi-Wan interrupted, his gaze hard on Padmé, Captain Panaka and the Jedi. “All we need to do is capture the Neimoidian viceroy. Without the viceroy, the Trade Federation cannot function. Neimoidians cannot think for themselves. They follow one leader and if we capture the viceroy, we can easily win this.”

“What if we encounter the droid army prior to capturing the viceroy?” Garen raised, arms crossed. He turned to Queen Amidala “We don’t have enough people here to take out an army.”

Padmé considered the question. “If we capture the hanger, we could send our pilots to attack the orbiting control ship. Once that is destroyed the droids would shut down.”

Obi-Wan agreed. With the droid army dismantled, the capture of Neimoidian would be swift and successful. “This is our best plan,” Obi-Wan averred. “We will have to be quick. Any hesitation will give the Neimoidian’s the upper hand.”

“Then we will not hesitate,” Padmé stated before she looked to Captain Panaka and the Jedi. “Are we all in agreement?”

The Jedi shuffled and Obi-Wan sensed their unease at agreeing to his plan. It irked Obi-Wan that their hesitation was due to their distrust of him. As Jedi, their emotions should be subdued in their decision. Yet, it ran rampart as each second tick. The silence grew longer and the animosity thickened. 

Obi-Wan was no longer amused and prepared to make them see reason when Master Rhara nodded. “We are.”

Padmé smiled. “Good, let’s not waste time,” she turned to Obi-Wan. “Where’s the nearest entrance?”

Obi-Wan mapped out their path to the tunnel. Obi-Wan’s memory served them well. In less than a half hour, they found one of the old entrances to the tunnels covered in overgrowth and hidden away from stray eyes. Captain Panaka entered first, followed by Padmé and her handmaidens, a few security officers and then lastly, the Jedi and Obi-Wan and Anakin. 

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “What do I do?”

Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s head. “Stay close to me and do as I say,” he said. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“But I can help!”

“Not with this Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You don’t have a weapon.”

Anakin frowned at being the only individual not carrying any sort of weapon. “I can if they would let me. Can’t you ask the captain again? Or Padmé?”

“I already did and the answer was no. I’m sorry. Just stay close to me.”

That wasn’t exactly what Anakin had in mind, but he didn’t argue any further. As long as he got to stay with Obi-Wan, he could witnessed or even participate in some way in the action. “Can’t wait until this is all over and we can go back to living here in peace,” he commented as he let Obi-Wan hoist him off his feet and lower him into the dark tunnel. 

Once Anakin was secured in the tunnel, Obi-Wan recruited Garen to assist in lowering Artoo-Detoo into the tunnel. As they lowered Artoo into the tunnel, peacefully cooperating as promised, Garen shot up a raised, questionable glance. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Sweat beaded down the side of Obi-Wan’s face. “What?”

“You didn’t tell him that you aren’t joining him on Naboo,” Garen clarified. “I’m surprised. I figured you two tell each other everything.”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply as he carefully pushed Artoo through the entrance. “I-I can’t tell him. Not now anyway. It would only be a distraction.”

Garen shrugged, taking over the spot where Artoo once was. “If you say so,” he said and when he saw the warning look on Obi-Wan’s face, he gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell your brat anything.”

“He’s not a brat.”

“He is to me,” Garen said and he jumped down into the tunnel, disappearing with all the others. 

Master Rhara stepped forward, her eye studying him with indifference as most Jedi Masters do. “Forgive my padawan, Kenobi,” she said, giving a disappointed glance to where Garen once stood. “Your appearance has brought some overdue issues and emotions.”

Obi-Wan knew quite well of the issues Garen had with him. “I am not insulted,” he said as a dismissal. He did not want to discuss Garen or the Jedi. He gestured to the tunnel’s entry. “After you.”

* * *

Inside Theed’s Royal Palace, Nute Gunray stood in the middle of the throne room, addressing the robed, hologram figured before him. “Our scouts have reported no sightings of her yet, my Lord,” he said quickly. “I have placed extra troops at all entrance points of the capital and increased security at the detention camps. We will find her and force her to sign the treaty.”

The hologram flickered as the velvet voice of Dooku oozed. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “The plans have changed.”

Nute Gunray nervously looked to Rune Haako. The plans keep changing and Gunray was worried that their goal was far out of reach. He looked back to the hologram. “Again, my Lord? Already we are close—”

The door to the throne room burst opened and a truly terrifying figured marched in. The Neimoidians scurried back, shocked at the jagged red and black stripes down the man’s face. His skull was bald and studded with a crown of sharp horns. Dark eyes penetrated the Neimoidians, assaulting them and stripping them bare until he dismissed them as cowardly fools. The figure turned to the hologram and bowed respectively. “Master,” he addressed. “I have arrived as requested.”

The hologram gave no indication of the figure’s greeting. Its shadowy persona kept talking to Gunray and Haako. “Meet my disciple, Maul,” he said as an introduction. Gunray and Haako inclined their heads in acknowledgement. “He will deal with the Jedi and the Queen.”

There was a momentary pause before Gunray spoke up in a quivered voice. “And once we secure the signature? How do you wish for us to proceed?”

The faceless man spoke. “There will be no signature, Viceroy,” he intoned. “They will be wiped out. All of them.”

“But the treaty! It needs to be—”

Gunray’s voice was cut off by constricting pressure around his esophagus. He wheezed, trying to regain any air as his hands came up to his throat for relief. It did not come. The shadowy blue figure glared at him. “The treaty matters no longer. The Queen, the Jedi and her aides will die today. The exclusion being Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.” The Sith Lord turned to Maul. “I entrust you to do what Ventress could not.”

Maul’s mouth rose in a predatory grin. “It will be done, my Master.”

“Good,” concluded the Sith Lord. “Do what needs to be done.”

And with that, he disappeared and Gunray collapsed on the marble floor, hacking. He swelled in deep breaths, so thankful to be alive. Slowly, he got back to his feet in time to watch Maul marched right out of the throne room. Haako hurried over and assisted him to his feet. 

“Another plan? Another Sith Lord?” Haako agonized, shaking his head. “We should not have made this bargain!”

Gunray brushed his robes. “It is too late now. We must proceed forward. We must get the Queen’s signature! I don’t care what the Sith Lord says. We need her signature or else the Republic will destroy us!”

* * *

The tunnels led them directly beside the palace hanger. They kneels, hiding themselves the best they could as they took stock inside the hanger. Anakin peeked underneath Obi-Wan’s arm and saw a platoon of droids holding a group of starpilots hostage. They looked frightened and wary of the blasters directed on them. Any sudden movement, the droids could fire a single bolt and their life would cease to exist. A cold, hard knot tangled in the pit of his stomach as he realized the same could be for them too. Any second, the droids would become aware of their presence and start firing. In those seconds, those bolts could strike Obi-Wan or Padmé dead, while he only could stand and do nothing. He couldn’t let that happen. Not after reuniting together. He wanted to help! He needed to save them!

Staying crouched, Anakin swore he would keep both Obi-Wan and Padmé safe from harm—one way or another. 

“Anakin? Once we are inside, you will need to find a safe place to hide until the firefight is over,” Obi-Wan advised, bending close to him. “Can you do that?”

It was almost as if Obi-Wan read his mind. Anakin nodded. “Sure.”

“And stay there,” Obi-Wan firmly added.

He definitely read his mind. Anakin nodded his promise, which lessened one anxiety for Obi-Wan. Upon Padmé’s signal, weapons slid free from their holsters and safeties released. Obi-Wan came to his feet, blaster in hand and ready to fire. It was time to face destiny.

“Stay close,” Obi-Wan mumbled to him.

Then on Padmé’s second signal, they charged. 

Anakin rushed after Obi-Wan, ducking his head when he heard the firing sounds of blasters. Battle droids turned to face them, but the Jedi’s lightsabers sliced them before they could fire or a single bolt would blast them apart. The droids were panicking. They were not expecting a sudden attack and were too slow in their retribution. Anakin followed Obi-Wan’s heels, keeping close as instructed. He watched Obi-Wan take a shot one after another, each bolt meeting every target. Anakin searched for Padmé and was riveted the moment he found her. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Padmé was charging in front, moving with skill and precision that Anakin only ever saw from Obi-Wan. She was a seasoned warrior, taking down her enemy one bolt at a time. A week ago, Anakin would never assumed the handmaiden he met on Tatooine to be a deadly combatant. Yet, here she was! Proving him wrong as she helped Obi-Wan drive the droids back from the pilots. Anakin heard her yell to the now freed pilots.

“Get to your ships!”

The pilots all stormed to the Naboo starfighters, climbing up ladders as R2 units joined the pilots. Engines hummed, overpowering the sounds of blasters being fired. Anakin watched the yellow N-1 starfighters lift off, jetting out of the hanger and toward the sky. He was so distracted, that he was nearly hit by a stray bolt. 

Obi-Wan Force-shoved him down. “What did I tell you?” Obi-Wan admonished him. “Find cover and stay there!”

Anakin nodded and he searched for place for cover. He darted across the hanger, crouching low as he raced to the other end. More starfighters flew out of the hanger and the droid numbers were dwindling. Anakin searched hastily for a place to hide when he heard the whistling sound of Artoo-Detoo above him. Anakin looked up to find Artoo enclosed in one of the starfighters socket, his dome rotating to get a better look at him. With more blaster fire, Anakin quickly climbed abroad and jumped into the cockpit in great relief. 

Seated comfortably, he nestled himself out of sight as per Obi-Wan’s orders. He still heard shots being fired, but through the Force, he felt Obi-Wan’s and Padmé’s presence. They were alive.

Daring, Anakin peeked through the bolt-hole of the starfighter and watched the last of the battle. Two more starfighters rocketed out of the hanger. The last one getting caught by tank fire and cartwheeling into the side of the waterfall. Anakin winced and turned to the last of fight. Obi-Wan, Padmé and Captain Panaka were fighting in one corner with the Jedi blocking any bolts that came near Padmé. Obi-Wan raced ahead, taking out the last few droids with both blaster bolts and the Force. It was all over. Only the carcasses of droids were left for evidence of the fight. 

The Naboo team regrouped, having a quick conference before marching toward the big sliding door. Anakin saw that they were leaving. He shot up on his feet, popping out of the cockpit. “Wait for me!”

Obi-Wan spun around. “Stay in that cockpit!”

“But I—”

“Stay right where you are,” Obi-Wan ordered, motioning for him to sit right back down. His face was beat red and intense. It was Obi-Wan’s warrior face. The same face he wore when battling bounty hunters or Jedi. It was a face of a man who was focused and yet barely in control.

But, Anakin ignored him, climbing out of the cockpit to join up. “No, I want to go with you and Padmé!”

“No—you will stay in that cockpit!” Obi-Wan snapped in a voice that brokered no arguments or negotiations. Anakin was to do as told.

He didn’t want to leave them, though. He thought about the pilot who recently died and worried over the fates of Obi-Wan and Padmé if he didn’t tag along. He needed to be with them to protect them. How else could he save them if he was stuck hiding in the hanger? He wrestled what to do. Should he obey Obi-Wan and stay hidden in the cockpit with Artoo or ignore his orders and join by picking up one of the droid’s discarded blasters? 

He was contemplating over the dilemma when the large doors slid opened. The Naboo team slowed to a stop when a dark-robed figure stepped into the opening. All the warmth in Anakin’s body chilled and his breath got caught in his throat. There was something far sinister in that man. A vile, wretched monster that reeked of the Dark Side of the Force. It reminded him of the woman. She too had the same tainted Force presence. 

Anakin ducked back into his cockpit, watching over the edge as the dark figure dropped its hood. He was more terrifying than Anakin anticipated. The tattooed face of red and black patterns gave the creature a horrifying mask and his crowned horns intensified the creature’s predatory appearance. His eyes burned in rage and anticipation at the Naboo team. He blocked their path, drawing out a long-handled lightsaber.

Anakin gulped. He must be working for Dooku and Qui-Gon!

The Jedi strode forward, beckoning Padmé and the others to stand behind them. Master Rhara and Padawan Muln approached the dark figure. 

“We’ll handle this,” Master Rhara assured the group.

Padmé nodded, knowing there was nothing she could do to help. “We’ll take the long way.”

Padmé redirect the group to the side doors as the Jedi disrobed to prepare to fight. The only person who didn’t do anything was Obi-Wan. He hesitated to follow Padmé, eyes fixed on the monster ahead of him. And, it seemed to Anakin, the monster was also fixated on Obi-Wan. There was a sense of determination and resentment radiating from the dark figure as its brimstone eyes glowered at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan!” Padmé called and Obi-Wan stepped away, running off to join the Naboo in capturing the Viceroy. 

Anakin sunk lower in his seat, watching carefully through the bolt-hole as Master Rhara and Padawan Muln ignited their weapons. The dark figure stripped off his robe and ignited his weapon: a red, double bladed lightsaber. 

Anakin’s stomach rumbled. He did not have a good feeling about this. 

The sounds of erupting blasters jerked Anakin back to looking over his cockpit. Obi-Wan and Padmé were facing off another batch of droids, but this time, they were not the simple droids. A cluster of destroyer droids wheeled into the hanger and with their protective bubble, began to fire at the small band of resistance soldiers. Obi-Wan kept close with Padmé, staying at her side to keep her safe while the Jedi battled the Sith. Or at least, what Anakin believed to be Sith. 

But the destroyer droids were no match against the blasters. It deflected from their bubble, causing no damage to their structure. They were wasting charges and soon, they would be weaponless and in trouble. Already the destroyer droids were marching onto them and Sabé, the decoy Queen received a graze burned and fell back into Captain Panaka. Padmé kept shouting out orders, but their resistance was becoming futile. Soon, they would be captured. Anakin had to do something! They needed his help. 

“Artoo! We have to do something!” Anakin said to the little droid. “What do we do?”

The droid chirped and the control panel came to life. The screen brightened and Anakin realized what the droid was suggesting. “Good idea!” he said, studying the controls. “Which one fires the cannons?”

The ship began to levitate and Anakin took the controls to rotate it in order for the cannons to fire appropriately. He searched the control panel, still looking for the weapon system. He’s seen multiple starfighter jets, but none like the Naboo’s starfighter jets. “Which one, which one,” he muttered as he eyed the options he had. When he heard a cry from the group, Anakin reacted quickly. He flipped switches and pounded on buttons. Then he slammed his hand on a button. Instantly, his ship rocked as two lasers fired into the cluster of destroyer droids. The blasts ripped away their protective bubble and shattered them into pieces. Three went down as two swayed back. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Anakin murmured and he fired again. The destroyer droids were hit, smoldering in a crushed pile. Anakin cheered! “Yippie! Look at what we did Artoo!”

Artoo-Detoo beeped his approval.

But, before Anakin could savor his victory, the cockpit’s hood slid into place, locking him inside. Anakin glanced up, nervous. “Artoo? What’s happening?” he screamed as the engine roared louder than before. The ship turned around on its own accord, moving in the direction of the exit where all the other starfighter jets blasted off. 

Anakin didn’t like where this was going. “Oh no. Oh no,” he repeated as he tried to find the right switch to get him stay. “Artoo! Do something!”

Artoo nervously beeped and groaned. Panic rose in Anakin. “I know I pushed something, but what?” he said to the droid. “Automatic pilot? Can’t you override it?”

But it seemed Artoo could not. Before Anakin knew it, he was blasted out of the hanger. Tank fire blaster underneath his starfighter, rocking it. Anakin held onto the controls, steadying the ship as he was rocketed into space.

Up ahead, he saw the slaughter of a space battle. His heart plummeted. “Oh… this isn’t good, Artoo,” he muttered, looking ahead at the swarm of starfighter jets. “Obi-Wan’s going to kill me.”

* * *

Obi-Wan chased after Anakin when he watched the starfighter rocket out of the hanger. He reached one of the ladders up to the starfighter when Captain Panaka called back to him. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “We need to go to the throne room.”

Obi-Wan stopped, an old dilemma returning. He had a duty to perform. He needed to help Padmé rescue Naboo from its occupation, but at the same moment, he needed to protect Anakin. Duty versus attachment. Jedi warnings rang in his head. He heard Master Yoda’s voice, instructing him and his clanmates the danger of attachments. Obi-Wan couldn’t abandoned his mission. After all, he created the plan. But, Anakin was in danger! He needed to save him!

“Obi-Wan!” called a handmaiden and suddenly, with great reluctance, Obi-Wan knew what must do. 

Guilt and desperation wrecked Obi-Wan. If Anakin simply just stayed put then he wouldn’t be wrestling over his anxieties. He knew he could not go after Anakin. It wouldn’t change the boy’s situation. Anakin was on his own path, following his destiny and Obi-Wan had his. He prayed silently to the Force to look after Anakin for him. 

Obi-Wan returned to the group. Padmé decided they should separate in order to confuse the viceroy as to where they were located within the palace. 

“Obi-Wan, you’ll come with me,” Padmé said. 

“Your Highness, I feel it would be best if I go with you,” said Captain Panaka, but Padmé shook her head. 

“The viceroy will assume you will be protecting the Queen,” she argued. “You will stay with Sabé. Obi-Wan will come with me.”

“But as your head of security—”

“Obi-Wan will be fine,” Padmé insisted, a frown crossing her face. “He’s protected me enough times on Tatooine for me to trust him. Now, let’s split up.”

Obi-Wan gave an apologetic stare to Captain Panaka. “I’ll lay down my life for her,” he said to reassure the head security. “You have my word.”

Captain Panaka glared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a taut mouth. “I will hold you to it. If she dies, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

And there was dark sincerity in Captain Panaka’s declaration. Obi-Wan noted it. “Understood.”

The group separated and Obi-Wan joined up with Padmé and her small band of starfighters down the skywalk that bridge the hanger to the rest of the palace. They encountered no droids along the way, which gave Obi-Wan a dark, sickly feeling. It caved into him, making his legs heavy as he strode alongside the Queen with an uncivilized weapon in his hand. Perhaps it was his anxieties about Anakin. He checked the Force and found Anakin’s presence a great beam of light. He was still alive. Terrified, but alive. 

He didn’t know what was keeping him disturbed. Only a bad feeling about something in the future. 

“Everything okay?”

Obi-Wan turned to Padmé, who looked at him cautiously. Obi-Wan nodded. “In a way,” he replied tentatively. “I have a bad feeling about something, but I can’t pinpoint what it is.”

Padmé grew concerned. “Is it Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No… I don’t know what it is. But, it’s fast approaching.”

And right when he said, a platoon of droids marched into the palace corridor, effectively blocking off their path. Padmé glanced at Obi-Wan. “You were saying?” she commented before they both dove behind a pillar. 

Pressed into alcoves or doorways, they fired their weapons in response to the droids onslaught. They were trapped. Unable to move forward or backward to escape and more droids appeared to join in the firefight. Alarms blared over the blaster shots. They did not have the time for this.

Padmé agreed. “We don’t have time for this!” she shouted over her shoulder to Obi-Wan, above the heavy blaster fire. 

Obi-Wan thought, hurriedly searching until he saw the windows. He turned his blaster away from the marching droids and fired at the window. It blew out the frame and transparisteel. “Outside!” Obi-Wan called. 

Obi-Wan covered for Padmé and their fellow officers to join outside. Obi-Wan shot a few droids down before joining the others on the broad ledge six stories above the thundering waterfall. Obi-Wan sharply inhaled at the sight, but turned away. He could not let the possibility of falling deter him from doing the necessary. He looked over to Padmé, who was furiously glancing around for an escape route. 

Then she looked up. “Ascension guns,” she called, motioning to a ledge about four stories above.

Everyone drew out their grappling hooks and fitted them to the barrels of their guns. With careful aim, they fired and watched the hooks claw onto the ledge. Swiftly, they activated the ascension mechanism and were being towed away in time before the droids made it to their original spot. 

Obi-Wan held tight and rebalanced himself on the new ledge. They all unhooked their cords and tossed them aside. Padmé moved to the corner of the ledge and aimed her blaster at the window. Seconds, the transparisteel shattered and they were all able to climb through into a new corridor. Obi-Wan scanned the area and found no signs of droids. 

“We should keep moving,” Obi-Wan advised. 

Padmé agreed. “We are close to the throne room.”

There was a fierce exultation echoing in the Force and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but share the same feeling. He checked in with Anakin and found the boy to be jubilant mood as well. They strode down the corridor, hurrying as they drew closer and closer to the throne room. The tide was turning. Their victory rising…

Only to plummet when a pair of destroyer droids wheeled in front, halting their progress. The droids transformed into battle positions. Obi-Wan stepped in front of Padmé, blaster aimed when another sound of destroyer droids came from behind them. Four destroyer droids and a small cluster of battle droids at the other end, weapons readied. 

In a mechanical monotone, the battle droid ordered them to surrender. Obi-Wan quickly scanned for fast escape routes, but being out-gunned and out-numbered dwindled any chances. Going back out the window would do little good and attempting to engage in a fight would leave more dead and alive. They were sufficiently captured. 

The droid repeated again. Obi-Wan turned to Padmé for command. There was hesitancy, but the light in her eyes did not dim. The cogs of her mind were clicking and the light only burned brighter. She had a plan.

Padmé spread her arms in surrender and dropped her weapon. “Drop your weapons,” she commanded. “They win this round.”

One of the officers blanched. “But—”

“I said laid down your weapons,” Padmé interrupted, looking at everyone who still held onto their blasters. 

Giving her an insane look, they all did as told. One by one they lowered their weapons and raised their hands. Even Obi-Wan. The droids confiscated the weapons and shoved them into formation to be marched away. Obi-Wan walked beside Padmé. “Is this a good idea?” he questioned.

“Have faith, Obi-Wan,” was all Padmé said as they were escorted straight to their original destination.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker buckled in and kept both hands on the controllers. 

He was in the midst of an epic dogfight. Naboo and Trade Federation fighters exploded left and right and Anakin moved his controllers quick to avoid collusion. Artoo had managed to get them off auto-pilot, but it was too late to do anything now. To avoid any confrontation, Anakin drove erratically and evasively to the point he was often skirting the main battle scene. He was still trying to learn how to fly the starfighter, doing trial-and-error exploration of the mechanics. He looked outside his canopy and watched destroyed fighters whiz past him.

“Whoa! This is intense,” he muttered. Artoo-Detoo soundly agreed.

Despite the dangers and his lack of starfighter knowledge, Anakin could not help but feel an immense jubilation at being able to participate in the battle. Who would want a blaster when they could pilot a starfighter? He piloted around the fray, gunning at Trade Federation ships that neared him. Anakin gave chase, firing away until it burst into flames. 

“Whoa! Did you see that Artoo?”

Artoo beeped his answer, but then began to whirl. Anakin read the display. “We can’t go back now! They need our help. Besides, Obi-Wan told me to stay in this cockpit.”

Artoo lowly beeped. 

“It might not be what it meant, but Obi-Wan often told me that there are different point-of-views,” Anakin countered back to Artoo’s disapproval. “And I am using my own. Now—let’s get closer.”

Anakin performed a great number of evasive maneuvers as he entered the war zone. He forgotten his promise to protect Obi-Wan and Padmé. They were far away from him and his only thoughts were to stay alive and take down the Trade Federation. In his mind, his only focus was to defeat the Trade Federation.

It was the Trade Federation’s fault that his relatively normal, peaceful life was interrupted. It was their fault for putting him and Obi-Wan right into the Sith Lords and Jedi’s paths. It was their fault for forcing Padmé to flee for her life. It was all their fault! And Anakin was going to make them pay the price for it. He was going to ensure they could never harm his family again. 

Artoo gave a scream in despair as Anakin navigated through the trenches of the battle. He dodged shots and flying parts. He weaved through fiery explosions as he gave chase to a few of the Trade Federation ships. Soon the tide turned and he found a Trade Federation ship tailing him. A hit rattled him in his small canopy. 

Oh no. “Artoo! I may have gone over my head,” he admitted. “How do I shoot the cannons behind me?”

Artoo beeped and indicated to one of the switches. Instead of shooting out laser bolts, it accelerated his starfighter directly toward the enemy’s main battleship. Anakin yanked hard on the controllers, banking a right to keep himself from crashing right into the control ship. 

“Hold on Artoo!”

Artoo gave a loud shrill as they suddenly spun out of control. 

Laser blasts fired at him, but they all streaked passed him, narrowly missing all of them. His ship still spun and Anakin tried his best to stabilize it. He hit every button possible, gripping the steering to command the ship. A shadow fell over him and he realized that the control ship was right next to him, acting more like a wall to him than a control ship. He stared up at the Trade Federation’s embalm that was painted on the side. 

He refused to crash. Anakin punched in the last buttons on the control panel and, to his utter relief and fright, his ship stopped spinning and stalled. It dropped and for a heart-wrenching moment, Anakin thought he was going to die when his starfighter came back on and stabilized. 

Anakin let out a long sigh of relief. “That was close Artoo.”

His luck was short ended. A shot blasted his tail and once again, he found himself spinning. Anakin and Artoo both were screaming as the ship blared in warnings. They were hurtling again to the control ship and Anakin wrestled with the controllers to stabilize the ship. It was useless and Anakin did what he could only do. He powered down the ship, hoping that once he powered it up again, he could regain control. His starfighter dropped again, but Anakin didn’t panic. He counted a few seconds and then ordered Artoo to turn it back on. The lights flickered up again and the engine roared. 

Anakin snatched the controllers and steered the ship toward the battle. But he found himself cut off by three enemy fighters. All of them shooting at him.

“This isn’t good, Artoo,” he called out to the droid who beeped in agreement. “I’m going to accelerate and dodge. That might help lose them.”

He punctured in the buttons and hit the accelerator. He did not race forward, rather he reversed backwards. He felt himself be yanked back by the reverse thrusters’ full power. A giant hull enveloped him and the starfighter as they zoomed into the Trade Federation’s hanger. Artoo was beeping furiously at him and Anakin was hitting the switches to get back into control.

“I’m trying Artoo!” he shouted back. "I'm trying!"

The tail of his starfighter must have hit something, because Anakin found his vision swirling and spinning. “I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled as he tried to put the brakes on.

After a panic-driven moment, the starfighter skidded down the ramp in a screech of metal. It turned once more before finally, it groaned to a rest. Everything on the control panel went dark. Anakin looked to the power drive and found that it completely failed. 

Artoo whistled in relief.

Anakin nodded. “Yeah… we’re okay. We’re okay. We’re alive,” he said, examining his control board. He checked the switches and the fuel lines. Everything was red. “Everything is overheated.”

He ducked down to adjust the coolants when Artoo let out a beep of warning. Anakin popped his head up and peered out of his cockpit. His face drained. “Oh no…”

Dozens of battle droids and destroyer droids were approaching his starfighter, blasters threatening raised.

Anakin slunk into his seat. This was not good. 

“Obi-Wan is going to kill me.”

* * *

The captured Naboo were led into the throne room by ten armed battle droids. The ornamented doors opened and Obi-Wan was amazed by the architectural design. The throne room was an immense, cavernous hall with a high, vaulted ceiling. Both the walls and floors of the room were adorned with marble of different colors, ranging from gray to red. A viewscreen graced one of those polished walls, right across from the monarch’s throne, an ornate chair which was raised on a podium and fronted by a low, flat divider. 

Sitting on the throne, however, was a green buggy Neimoidian with large red eyes and his expression petulantly sour until he caught sight of his guests. He rose up from the chair, joined by another Neimoidian in a blue gown that contrasted sharply with the first Neimoidian’s red gown.

As they were marched up to where the Neimoidians stood, Obi-Wan took stock of any possible exits. He found only one, a far door on the other side, but it was a big risk. He didn’t think it would be a good idea. He followed Padmé up to the Neimoidians, remembering his promise to Captain Panaka and hoping Anakin would forgive him if he died. 

The Neimoidians peered at Padmé in confusion and surprise. It was very possible that they did not know whether Padmé was the Queen or simply another handmaiden. They approached her, examining her face until the confusion wore off and they accepted that she really was Queen Amidala. 

“Your Highness,” greeted the red gowned Neimoidian.

“Viceroy,” Padmé coolly replied, confirming their suspicions. 

Viceroy Nute Gunray was ecstatic. “Your little insurrection is at an end,” he said, smug. “Your Jedi are being dealt with and I am now holding you captive!”

Padmé returned with a cool gaze. “Am I?” she said quietly.

Obi-Wan side-glanced at the Queen. Her words were unnerving and challenging, almost like she was daring the Neimoidians. The Viceroy and his companion shared a worried glance, but then the Viceroy took command again. “Yes you are,” he pressed. “Your escape to the Senate was pointless. You have no friends there or here. Not anymore. And now you are going to sign the treaty!”

Padmé bridled at the declaration. “I will not.”

Viceroy Gunray was maddened! His fishy lips were pressed and he drew his hand back as if to slap Padmé. Obi-Wan immediately stepped in between the Neimoidian and Padmé, eyebrows furrowed as he glared up at the towering viceroy. “Hit her and you have to answer to me.”

Gunray stared perplexed at him, aggravated at his intrusion and yet, cowering a little by the force in his voice. “Who are you to threaten me? You have no weapons to fight back.”

Obi-Wan drew in the Force around him. It answered to his beckoning, curling around him as he fixed his challenging gaze upon the Neimoidians. “I don’t need a weapon,” he said quietly, but controlled.

His statement stunned the Neimoidians that they gave him a second look out of uncertainty as to who they were dealing with. “Who are you?” demanded the viceroy. “Tell me!”

Obi-Wan’s lips curled up in a half-smirk. “The name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

His name caused a flicker of recognition through the Neimoidians. They gaped at him a little longer, studying him as if trying to match him with an image in their head. It clicked together and the viceroy snapped to him. “Droids! Secure him!” he ordered as he searched their small crowd for another face. They were looking for Anakin. “Where’s the other one?”

Obi-Wan kept tight lipped as the droids boxed him. Nute Gunray wasn’t pleased with his silence. “Where’s the other one?” he repeated, enraged at being disrespected. “Tell me where the boy is or else I will torture the young Queen until you are compliant!”

Gunray’s threat to harm innocents became his undoing. Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes met the Neimoidians with a cold stare, the Force answering for him. “I don’t think so.”

The Force pressed against his mind, ready for command. With a deep breath, he unleashed the full might of the Force. The Force coursed through his body and erupted out of him. He directed the first wave at the droids closest to him, sending them crashing into the marbled walls. The next wave targeted the droids preparing to fire on them. They were lifted up by their metal feet and shredded of their armor. Their squalls turned to groans as the droids fell broken. Obi-Wan exhaled, releasing his hold on the Force. He felt elated and weary from the overabundance of the Force. His lack of proper training was not equipped for such strong use of the Force. Nonetheless, it worked in his favor. 

But he had no time to rest. There were still a few battle droids to deal with alongside the cowardly Neimoidians. 

He took position again to guard Padmé when he realized she was no longer behind him. During the commotion, Padmé ducked behind Obi-Wan and sat upon her throne. After coding something on the throne’s armchair, she reached her hand in. In an instant, she stood up, a new blaster in each hand. She tossed one to Obi-Wan and he caught it, understanding what to do. He took aim and shot at the remaining droids. Padmé fired at the depleting droid squad, yelling at the officers. “Seal the doors!”

Two officers, scooping up guns discarded by broken droids, raced to the doors. Mere seconds, the officer triggered the locks. The door snapped shot and the bolts were engaged. 

Pleased, Padmé smashed the locking system with the butt of her gun. She eyed the two huddled Neimoidians, who were futilely and desperately searching for help. It was to their grave unfortunate that their only allies were a bunch of discarded and shattered droids.

Obi-Wan held the blaster loose in his hand. The room was secured. The threat subdued.

Padmé walked over to the cowering Neimoidians. “Now, Viceroy,” she said in her regal tone. “We will discuss a new treaty.”


	16. The Duel of Fates Remastered

Obi-Wan had a bad feeling.

As Padmé and company took charge of Nute Gunray and Rune Haako, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but have a deep, gutted feeling that something bad was on the horizon. An icy presence slipped beneath his shields, enveloping his conscious. His mind burned by an even strike with a prickly effect. There was a tremor in the Force as the ice thickened around him. 

Something dark was occurring. 

Obi-Wan whirled to Padmé. “I have to go.”

Padmé drew her eyebrows in, surprised. “Go? What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain, but I need to go,” Obi-Wan said, apologetic as he swiftly moved to one of the doors.

“Is it Anakin?” Padmé asked, worried.

Obi-Wan quickly shook his head. “No, it’s… it’s the Jedi.”

He did not wait for any objections or permission. He got the door unlocked and bolted out. He heard shouts to seal the doors again and the snap of bolts being placed. Obi-Wan paid no mind. He body tingled in wary anticipation like he was about to come upon a calamitous event he could not handle. A treacherous vine wrapped around his legs, slowing him down despite the Force speed he exerted to return to the hanger. All the droids he crossed were too slow to fire or block him from his path. Yet, time still slipped away from him.

He returned to the empty hanger. Charred droid parts littered the floor, the smell of static heat biting his senses. He glanced around the front of the hanger where he last saw Master Rhara and Garen battling another one of Dooku’s pets. Drawn, burnt lines marked the walls, trailing away from the hanger.

Armed with his blaster, Obi-Wan followed.

He trailed the burnt markings of missed strikes that took him to an entry, which led deep into the power station. Catwalks crisscrossed a massive pit in which housed a tandem of generators that served the starship complex. Like the rest of Naboo’s Royal Palace, it was cavernous in size, but the tranquility was disturbed by heavy machinery whirring around the metal walls. Ambient light filtered through wisps of steam, distorting Obi-Wan’s vision as he walked onward.

The Dark Side seeped in the room. The very walls captured a scream that continuously rang in its echoes. The cold invaded him, seeping through his skin and hardening around his heart. The Force reflected unpleasantness. A deep cut that would scar forever.

Obi-Wan initially took a step back. Whatever happened already did. Nothing Obi-Wan could do change the outcome. Still, the small voice whispered to him, luring him away from the scene. He didn’t move. Just stood as the Force swirled in an uncontainable madness.

Obi-Wan stared back. The choice laid at his feet. But it wasn’t really a choice. Not when it came down to this. Obi-Wan inhaled, preserving as he moved across the first catwalk. He took quick glances from over the sides, eyes searching for a flash of colored lights. He hadn’t seen any lightsaber marks in a while. A sign that either the battle ended or moved elsewhere. Unsure due to the awry feeling in the Force, Obi-Wan made his steps lighter, muffling his presence to hide in the flashes of shadows and steam.

As he neared halfway and the steamed somewhat cleared, Obi-Wan caught sight of a lump form on a catwalk below. Obi-Wan stopped. He studied it closer. That was not a lump. It was a person. Without thought, Obi-Wan jumped over the side, landing gently on his feet with the aid of the Force. He rushed over. A sharper shape came and he could make out finer details of the person. His heart dropped. He slowed to a stop, looking down at the familiar face.

Laying on her back, eyes round in shock and terror, was Master Rhara.

In the middle of her chest was a gaping, charcoaled hole.

Obi-Wan knew she was dead. The living never look frozen in time, but it didn’t stop him from taking a knee and checking for a pulse. Her neck was cold and silent, and the smell of burnt flesh agitated Obi-Wan’s stomach. Sighing in despair, Obi-Wan respectively closed her eyes.

The first kill was always harsh. And the second only worse.

Obi-Wan did a quick scan of the area, hoping he wouldn’t find another body. To his fortunate find, he saw no other body. But that didn’t mean anything. It only meant that Garen was alone with a madman.

Obi-Wan got back on his feet. Blaster in hand, he saw a small door at the far end of the power station. The battle must have continued on from there. Obi-Wan moved, but slipped and nearly fell on top of Master Rhara’s body. He looked for the cause of his unsteady balance and saw Master Rhara’s lightsaber. It was left behind, next to her opened hand as if she was letting it go upon passing. Obi-Wan swallowed. He knew it was wrong to steal another Jedi’s lightsaber. A lightsaber was a Jedi’s life and despite Master Rhara’s death, the lightsaber still belonged to her. Yet, couldn’t help but feel the need to pick it up. He always felt blasters were uncivilized. Not a proper weapon as it made killing impersonal. Killing was never impersonal. Not for Obi-Wan. Taking a life would always be personal. Therefore, a lightsaber kept him in check and when he killed, it was in defense rather than in savagery.

He lingered again on the lightsaber, wrestling at the situation before he finally snatched it. If he was going to confront another one of Dooku’s assassins, he would need a lightsaber.

He made his apologies to Master Rhara and raced down the catwalk, turning into a corridor filled with red laser walls. The lasers shocked him into immobility, capturing him in its fine walls. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought he fell right into the assassin’s trap. After taking a quick measure of his location, realized he was in the service corridor for the melting pit, the disposal unit of the power station. He looked up at the mechanics and found that the lasers were to keep intruders out. That meant there had to be a shut off somewhere. He examined his chamber and found nothing to help in his escape. The switch must have been at the beginning of the corridor. All Obi-Wan could do was wait out the transformation. Once the walls retreated, Obi-Wan would have to be quick to get out if he didn’t want to spend another minute trapped between red laser shields. 

He didn’t have to wait too long. He heard the groan of release. There was a kick and the red walls came down. Obi-Wan sprinted, arms pumping and nearly launching himself down the corridor. He just got to the end when the laser shields barricaded the corridor again. He skidded to a halt, his nose almost brushed against the laser. He stumbled backwards and squeezed the lightsaber in his hand in comfort. His breathing ragged, he stared down the last wall that kept him secured in the corridor. If only he ran faster, he thought as he his lungs expanded in dire need of air. That was when he heard the sounds of a battle. The snap hiss of lightsabers clashing brought Obi-Wan to look beyond the red laser to see Garen battling on his own against the dark assassin. 

The red-black tattooed assassin was a warrior in his prime. His acrobatic maneuvers and quick reflexes proved his powers were at its peak. His tattooed face portrayed a fervent hatred, driving his power and combat against Garen. Already, it killed one Jedi. An accomplishment the assassin had wanted for years. And his eyes… Obi-Wan noticed he held no fear and no doubt. The monster  _knew_  he was going to win.

Garen, while young and full of stamina, could not quite compete at the same level as the assassin. He wasn’t battle hardened and his offensive tactics were woefully inadequate. He was barely parrying the strikes and stabs. He wasn’t going to hold out for much longer. 

Suddenly, Obi-Wan never felt so trapped before. Desperately, he cast around to find any way out of his captivity and shut down the system to save his friend. He looked at all options, but there was nothing he could do but cling onto the hope that Garen could hold on. 

It was then that the assassin noticed him. His yellow-red ringed eyes found him. A smile of open derision came with a promise of pain. There was a shift in the Force. A tilt that unhinged Obi-Wan. He focused on the fight, bouncing on his toes and lightsaber ready to ignite. 

“Come on… hurry,” Obi-Wan hissed as he tried to use the Force to withdraw the lasers. The icy enclose threatened to freeze his heart over. 

The assassin looked at Obi-Wan once more and Obi-Wan had a plunging feeling that, up to this point, the assassin was only playing. That his battle had nothing to do with the Jedi and everything to do with him. 

In seconds, the assassin somersaulted over Garen’s head. Garen was not expecting it and was too slow to stop it. In a cunning strike, the assassin ran his double-bladed lightsaber right up Garen’s spine. Garen’s howl resonated in Obi-Wan as his own piercing scream shattered the ice through a volcanic rage. Pain rattled his cage, shredding every ounce of hope Obi-Wan had as his friend flopped on the floor, nearly tumbling over into the melting pit.

The assassin didn’t even watch Garen fall. His watchful gaze was on Obi-Wan, drinking in the sight of the building fury. To him, it was all a game. After seemingly enjoying his share, the assassin returned to Garen, who still clung onto his life with uneven breaths. The red and black tattooed creature flashed his blade, preparing for the plunge.

It was then the lasers abruptly turned off. Obi-Wan ignited the lightsaber and lunged for the rescue. 

Green clashed against red.

* * *

Anakin frantically ducked out of sight. Battle droids surrounded his ship and Artoo-Detoo was beeping in panic mode. He wasn’t the only one. The control panel still indicated that everything was red. There was nothing he could do.

“Artoo! We have to do something,” he whispered. “The system is still overheated. Isn’t there anything you could do?”

Artoo beeped in reply, but then a droid’s crackling, monotone voice interrupted him. “Where is your pilot?” it demanded.

Anakin scrunched himself lower in the cockpit as he listened to Artoo bravely reply.

The metallic droid spoke again. “You are the pilot?”

Artoo whistled, but the battle droids sounded confused. “Identification?”

Thinking that Artoo’s cover was blown, Anakin was prepared to try fighting his way out the cockpit. Obi-Wan taught him how to use the Force for defensive means. He could probably do it offensively as well. Before Anakin could reveal himself to the droids, he heard sounds of switches clicking and circuits jumping. Anakin glanced at the control board. The system lights changed from red to green. 

Anakin burst out a smile. Artoo-Detoo did it! He saved them!

“Yes Artoo!” He cheered. “We’re up and running.”

Anakin buckled in his seat and threw the ignition switches up. The starfighter’s engines roared to life and he popped his head up to the viewport. He saw several more battle droids back away from the awakening starfighter, confused and shouting out orders. One of them saw him and started firing. 

“That’s not good,” Anakin said as on bolt hit the side of his ship. He reached for the deflectors and threw them up. “Shields up!”

The next round of bolts rebounded, securing Anakin from a near death experience. He hauled the controller close and released the antigrav lifts. The starfighter unsteadily rose from the hanger floor. 

The droids continued to fire at him, their bolts harmless against his shields. “Let’s show them how we fight Artoo!” Anakin exclaimed as the cannons were no longer locked. 

Or at least what he thought were the cannons. 

When he pressed down on the buttons, his ship rocked as two, bright light torpedoes sped down the long corridor of the hanger. It whipped past the battle and destroyer droids, supply cargo, transport ships and everything until it disappeared into the darkness. 

Anakin only blinked. “What the blazes was that?”

Artoo beeped, unsure. 

As more blaster fires came at him, Anakin decided to leave the hanger. He swung the starfighter around and threw the thrusters forward. He kicked up the power drive and it responded with a ferocious roar. Seconds, that was all it took, and Anakin shot across the hanger with Artoo whistling in approval. He topped down droids in his path as he raced to the exit point, spying the stars and the battle. 

He wasn’t aware of anything until he heard Artoo’s frantic beeps. Anakin read the display. “What do you mean hurry?”

Artoo gave a warning beep.

“There’s a massive fire behind me?!”

Artoo confirmed with a dark beep. 

Anakin had no time to check to see if Artoo was right. He trusted the little droid. He switched up the power drive and threw the thrusters at full throttle. Anakin slid all the way back in his seat, pinned by the pressure as they came hurtling out of the hanger and into space.

Artoo was beeping and chirping like his wires were fried up. Anakin ignored him, focusing on avoiding the debris left from the battle to rejoin the rest of the Naboo starfighters. Then a bright light consumed Anakin and debris flew past Anakin’s canopy. Then the light diminished into a black void. 

Someone started yelling through the channels in his head gear. Voices bickered about what happened until someone cheered, “Look! Look over there! That’s one of ours! Outta the main hold! Must’ve been him!”

Anakin realized the man was talking about him. He cringed as he had hoped that he could return to Naboo quietly without getting Obi-Wan upset. But all the cheers he overheard and all the enemy fighters becoming inactive proved that his hopes of quiet heroics was not going to happen. He knew he would need to come up with a very good reason why he joined the battle. 

Artoo beeped reprovingly at him. Anakin groaned. “I know,” he muttered, not at all looking forward to his talk with Obi-Wan. 

He wasn’t looking forward to his confrontation with Obi-Wan, but he couldn’t help but sit up straighter in his cockpit. He and Artoo had successfully destroyed the Trade Federation battle ship. All the pilots were cheering and calling him a hero. Anakin could not deny that the praises warmed him and a silly grin split his face. He was a hero! Him! A hero. Like Obi-Wan. 

As they piloted their starfighters back to the Naboo, under safe passage after the droids were disabled, the pilots all leapt out of their starfighters to race over to Anakin’s ship when it landed. Anakin was nervous at first. He stayed in his cockpit, unsure if he should reveal himself at all. But, Artoo encouraged him, if anything, to at least meet up with Padmé and Obi-Wan quicker. 

Anakin disengaged the engine and the canopy rose up. Cool air whipped around his hair, touching his sweaty brow. Taking a few quick breaths, Anakin shakily rose to his feet.

To his surprise, he saw all the smiling pilots by his ship, a thunderous clap greeting him. He looked down at all the faces, many of them turning from gratitude to shock. They had not expected a boy to be the pilot who destroyed the ship. 

The clapping died from the shock, but then it erupted again. It did not matter to them. Soon, Anakin found himself amongst the throng of pilots, all trying to reach and pat his shoulder. All of them complimenting and chanting his heroics. Artoo beeped alongside him as the pilots continued their celebratory moment.

Anakin, while accepting handshake after handshake, kept his eyes out for Obi-Wan and Padmé.

Where could they possibly be?

* * *

Everything Obi-Wan ever learned and preached escaped his mind. 

He removed himself from his usual cautious self and barreled into the monster with fury that they both nearly toppled over the melting pit. He whipped the green lightsaber, striking against the dark assassin with every power he had. He was lost in a red haze, consumed by the pain, grief and guilt for Garen and Master Rhara. 

The assassin was caught off guard by Obi-Wan's ferocity. He fell back, letting Obi-Wan press him to the far wall. He struggled to trick Obi-Wan into defense. Obi-Wan refused to let up, pushing and pressuring into the assassin. Lightsabers scraped, hissed and clashed against each other, the chamber echoing their story. 

The assassin regained the offensive when he twisted out of Obi-Wan’s way, kicking him in the back. Obi-Wan caught the wall and rolled to the side, missing the red lightsaber’s strike. A thin layer of sweat glistened his face and wetted the tips of his hair. Obi-Wan’s breathing turned ragged. He raised the lightsaber. He wanted nothing more than to eliminate the creature before him. To keep him from causing more suffering. 

He charged, but the assassin was ready. He swept aside and elbowed Obi-Wan in the face. Obi-Wan stumbled backwards, but he didn’t lose focus. Blood trailed from his nose, dripping over his lips and his tongue tasted the rough copper. Still wrung with fury, he came after the dark assassin, fighting with all his strength and quickness. The enemy was well focused to block every single attempt. He was in complete control whereas Obi-Wan was losing all sense of self, falling deeper into the madness. 

They fought alongside the ledge of the melting pit, returning back to where Garen laid. It seemed the assassin grew bored because he used the Force to fling heavy objects at Obi-Wan to disable him. Obi-Wan cut through the objects, warding off the attack as the metal gave out a startling shriek as it collided with the walls. 

The duel wore on and it was evenly fought at the beginning. Obi-Wan recognized the assassin before him was much stronger and that his own hatred frenzy surpassed Obi-Wan’s own frantic determination. Obi-Wan was growing tired, his strength fading from exerting too much of his anger into the fight. 

Bit by bit, the enemy gained the upper-hand, carrying the attack to him. Obi-Wan did his best to keep the mad creature from him, fear creeping back into his thoughts about what it would mean if he too died.  

Obi-Wan rejected the thought. He would not die. Not today. Not by this deviled creature. 

He remembered Master Yoda’s words, encouraging him to be mindful and to be strong. Soft voices of his old master slipped into his conscious. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, before he fell, came back to him with words encouraging him to not concentrate on his fears. To focus on the here and now, and to be brave.  _Let go_. 

Their teachings gave him excess drive and Obi-Wan mounted his final assault. He rushed the assassin with a series of blows to the creature’s side. The assassin followed, bringing his double-bladed lightsaber horizontal.

With a smirk, Obi-Wan faked an attack. He distracted the enemy from his true purpose. The assassin went the wrong way. With his free hand, Obi-Wan elbowed the assassin in the face. It distracted the assassin long enough. Obi-Wan brought his lightsaber down on the middle section of the red lightsaber. The double-blade lightsaber was dissected, one end circuiting out. 

Victorious! Obi-Wan continued and cut at the assassin’s head for the killing blow when the horned creature stepped aside. Obi-Wan missed. He swung around to quickly throw the lightsaber behind to counterattack the assassin’s next strike. The enemy didn’t let up. He struck harder and harder until Obi-Wan lost his footing and fell sideways. The lightsaber scattered to the opposite side of the wall. Losing balance, Obi-Wan toppled right beside Garen.

Obi-Wan flipped over to continue the fight, but felt strong a hand seize his neck. Slowly, Obi-Wan was raised off his feet as the tattooed assassin glared up in triumph. He grinned, his gnarly, yellow-stained teeth visible that Obi-Wan believed them to be rotten. The pressure along his esophagus tightened and Obi-Wan found he was choking. Blood rushed to his brain and he snatched the assassin's hands to rip it away from his throat. 

His struggles only made the creature laugh. “You have no chance of beating me, Kenobi,” he gleamed. “Though you far succeeded my expectations of you.”

Obi-Wan glared down and croaked through his constricting throat. “I often do.“

His throat crushed a little more.

The assassin’s yellow-red eyes fixed on him, studying him. "I am beginning to see their reasons to spare you,” he commented, a hint of resentment biting those words. “You have a lot of anger in you. Power too. Embrace it! Unleash your anger and let it fuel your power!”

Obi-Wan refused. He realized his mistake. He had given into his anger and now he fell into the monster’s grasp. He chose not to listen to the assassins. He closed his eyes and went deep inside himself, reconnecting with the Force he trusted.

The assassin growled. “You cannot expel what is already in your heart, Kenobi!” he lashed out, shaking Obi-Wan. “It matters not! I have you now. And soon, I’ll find the boy and then I will become the rightful apprentice! The _true heir_  to the great Lords of the Sith!

"And you will be nothing more than a beaten pet,” snarled the assassin.

It was then the assassin tried to take control of Obi-Wan. He shoved his Force powers into Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan’s shielding protected him from the first onslaught, the assassin charged again. His throat pinched and oxygen cut, his brain started to slow down and Obi-Wan knew he only had a few minutes before he would be disabled completely and at the assassin’s mercy. 

Instead of panicking, Obi-Wan calmed himself. He stilled his trembling heart and banished his fear and anger. He focused on the happier moments and light cracked through the dark abyss that he nearly toppled in. It pulsed and brightened, casting away the dark tendrils that swarmed him. Renewed, Obi-Wan called upon the last of his reserves. Imbued with the Force, he called to Garen’s lightsaber.

It flew straight into his hand and, before the assassin knew what was happening, Obi-Wan pressed it against the assassin's midsection and ignited it. 

Rage and shock ghosted the assassin's face. His fingers loosened and Obi-Wan slipped out of his grip and his feet landed with a soft drop. The assassin's chest burned with bright blue fire, the smell of melted flesh stinging the nostrils. Stricken, the assassin howled in a mixture of disbelief and agony. 

Obi-Wan thumbed off the lightsaber and watched the assassin blink in utter confusion. Then, he tipped backwards into the pit. But he was not going to go down alone. 

The assassin's hand snatched a chunk of Obi-Wan’s tunics, pulling him into the dark abyss. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t quick enough to prevent the fall. He tumbled over, joining the dark when something snagged his hand. The jerk of the pull caused the assassin to lose his grip and he plummeted into the pit in an agonized, vengeful scream. It rattled the chamber, but it faded within the hissing sounds of the laser walls reactivating.

Free and surprised by his abrupt halt down the dark abyss, Obi-Wan glanced up to see Garen’s pained face over the ledge. His hand was wrapped firmly around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

Obi-Wan exhaled in relief and shock. “Garen?”

Garen grunted. “H-hold on…”

Together, their combined Force powers helped ease Obi-Wan back to the ledge. Once Obi-Wan was on solid ground, he gave no pause to reflect what happened. He crawled to Garen’s side, still holding onto his friend’s hand. 

“Garen!” he said, staring at the long lightsaber burn that trailed up his friend’s back. “Garen!”

Garen’s eyes opened a little wider, but there was not much light left. The once vibrant colors dimmed and his face looked pale underneath his matted dark hair. “He killed… my master.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened at the image of Master Rhara’s body. “I know.”

Garen trembled. “I guess he killed me too.”

“No!” Obi-Wan shook his head in denial. “Not yet. Stay strong.”

Garen rolled his eyes from the melting pit to Obi-Wan. “I feel cold.” The young, confident face contorted in pain. “Oh Force, Kenobi! What have I done?”

“You saved my life,” Obi-Wan offered. “I am forever in your debt.”

Garen’s scoffed. “I don’t… want your debt,” he struggled to speak. His hand in gripped Obi-Wan tighter as if it kept him grounded. A strong hold for someone fading. “I want your… forgiveness.”

His words surprised Obi-Wan. “You have nothing to forgive, Garen.”

“I do,” he breathed as if he was coming to a slow stop. Tears leaked from the corner of eyes. “I was so mad at you… I blamed you,” Garen eyes were round and glossy as he fixated on Obi-Wan. “But… oh Force!… I missed you, Obi-Wan. You were my friend and I missed you.”

Obi-Wan blinked back some of his own tears. “I missed you too,” he returned.

Garen winced, his face distraught as the pain escalated. “I-I wanted you to know that,” he said, strained. “I had to let you know that.”

Obi-Wan understood and stayed next to his friend as he drifted into a series of uneven breathing. Obi-Wan sent as much of Force healing he could to end his friend’s suffering. It wasn’t for another ten minutes that Obi-Wan heard the rapid tapping of running footsteps. He looked up to see at least ten Naboo security guards coming to him.

Obi-Wan quickly explained the situation, imploring for medical support. Obi-Wan stayed by Garen’s side until he was taken by healers. Garen’s hand had slackened and gotten colder as it slipped from Obi-Wan’s hand. 

Obi-Wan watched them rush his friend away. His friend’s life was up to the Force. There was nothing more Obi-Wan could do. And it hurt to know the truth in that statement. 

* * *

The parade of people cheering and hugging dizzied Anakin. Any time he tried to leave, to either go find Obi-Wan or Padmé, he was drawn right back into the centerfold of the jubilation. More people gathered. Chanting and squealing in delight. Not just pilots, but mechanics, security guards and citizens have rushed to share this monumental victory with the hero who destroyed the droid army.

While Anakin enjoyed the flattery and the attention, it soon drained him. He appreciated their happiness, but he wanted to surround himself with the ones who cared about him. And the one he cared for.

A pilot before him was throwing him question after question as eager audience members listened in to the conversation. “How old are you anyway, kid?”

“Nine… well, ten soon enough,” Anakin replied.

The audience stared in awe. “Really?” gasped the pilot. “Only nine? You flew like you were some professional!”

“I am a professional pilot.” Not really. Obi-Wan would state he needed a license to have that claim. But he was good enough to win a pod race and blow up a control ship. Experience was what made someone a professional. Not a license test. “I pilot a lot of ships.”

“What kind?”

“A pod racer for one,” Anakin answered. “I won the Boonta Eve.”

None of the Nubian citizens understood and Anakin realized they may not know what a pod race is. It seemed not to matter though, the pilot kept asking question, prying into Anakin’s life. Anakin gave very little details as Obi-Wan always instructed him to do. No need to advertise who he was. So looking around, Anakin realized he may have failed that lesson.

“You know? In about eight years, you should sign up to aviator school,” suggested the pilot. “You’d enjoy it. Get to fly all over the Naboo and the galaxy. Plus, a few battles here and there,” he added with a wink.

Anakin wasn’t really paying attention to the pilot. His eyes kept wandering, searching for Obi-Wan or Padmé to enter the hanger again. It appeared he wasn’t good at hiding his boredom.

“You looking for someone?” the pilot asked, looking over his shoulder to where Anakin was just searching.

Anakin blinked and looked back to the pilot. “Just my friends,” he responded quietly. “Do you know where Padmé would go?”

“Padmé?”

“The Queen.”

The pilot’s mouth dropped. “You know the Queen?!”

Anakin nodded, proud to see the man’s shock. “Of course. She’s my friend.”

The utter bewilderment on Anakin’s face would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so worried about Obi-Wan or Padmé’s well-being. He reached into the Force for Obi-Wan, but what returned was something akin to greyness. A cloud blocked the light and it unnerved Anakin that he wasn’t getting a good sense of Obi-Wan. His stomach turned turbulent and he held himself, still glancing to the doors in hopes that he or Padmé would walk through those doors.

“How did you befriend the Queen?” the pilot questioned.

Anakin forgotten the pilot. He flickered his gaze back to the absorbed pilot. “I saved her.”

Not wishing to go into more details, Anakin excused himself and headed for the doors. He was done with the party. He was restless and needed to go find his friends. Artoo loyally followed, chirping in excitement that the invasion was over. Anakin was glad too. That meant things could go back to the way they were. He and Obi-Wan would live on Naboo, maybe move off the mountain to be closer to Padmé. Maybe Obi-Wan could get a job in security detail?

His hopes lifted and there was a bounce to his feet as he squeezed himself between hugging people. Artoo beeped to get the people to move, but with such a commotion, it was hard to hear anything. Another person recognized him and he was back to receiving appreciative pats on the back and strong handshakes. Anakin’s fingers cracked under their grips, fingers bruised.

People were retelling the space battle, describing Anakin’s heroics when to be quite honest, they made him see much larger than life. Most of the time he hadn’t got a clue what he was doing. He and Artoo did what they needed to do to stay alive, learning the ropes together as a team.

Like he and Obi-Wan always did.

Anakin’s shoulders slumped as he resigned, troubled. He really wanted to find Obi-Wan.

As he listened to others tell tales of the space battle and his heroics, a familiar presence warmed. A rekindling of a connection. Anakin shot up and saw Obi-Wan striding out of the far exit alongside a Naboo security guard.

It was Obi-Wan. It was really Obi-Wan.

Anakin couldn’t contain his excitement. “Obi-Wan!”

His shout interrupted the pilots’ stories. They all glanced at him, confused before following his line of sight and spying the disheveled and bloody mess of a man. Anakin cared less of their opinion. He shouted again, waving his hand up. “Obi-Wan!”

The pilots understood. They parted, making a straight path to the man. Anakin bolted. He sprinted down as people made way, clapping a hand on his shoulders as he passed or pumping a fists up in victory.  

Obi-Wan stopped where he stood, tired eyes following Anakin’s plow through the crowd. Once free, Anakin became aware of the distinct sadness in Obi-Wan’s eyes. A deep regret that tinged the color to a desolate grey. Blood crusted his nostrils and upper lip, and there was a reddish-purple bruising along the neck. Something horrible happened.

Anakin clinically studied Obi-Wan for any life-threatening injuries as he approached. “Obi-Wan? Look—I know I said I wouldn’t—”

Anakin didn’t get very far in his apology. His words were muffled by Obi-Wan’s sudden embrace. It shocked Anakin at first. He expected Obi-Wan to scold him or question his disobedience. Instead, he got a strong embrace. Obi-Wan pressed close and Anakin, relaxed, buried his face in the sweaty tunics, not caring about the smell. He returned the hug, both tied in an embrace neither were willing to untangle.

Anakin listened to Obi-Wan’s heart. Each beat Anakin heard he counted. One. Two. Three. Each beat gave Anakin life. Strength. Security. It drove away the fears that gibbered the edges of his mind. Anakin squeezed tighter. Assurance—Obi-Wan was alive. He was alive. They were both alive.

They both survived.

And that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all the kudos and comments.  
> For readers who have been waiting for someone special to make an appearance, the wait is almost over.  
> Next chapter, she will be making her debut.


	17. Love in A Hopeless Place

The sun setting on Naboo had quite the eerie prophecy. Watching the marching darkness chase the last light to the end was a grave significance. An impending doom that was unstoppable. Yet, even in the midst of the coming blackest night, there were pockets of light from the glow of the stars and the fires lit by the citizens of Naboo. Even in the darkest times, a single light would always remain. 

Obi-Wan viewed the celebrations high up in the palace, looking down with thoughts that were amiss by others. He unconsciously rubbed his neck. He could still feel the assassin’s hand pushing down on his throat, suffocating him. The bruises would fade in time. Otherwise he was physically fine. Nose wasn’t broken. Throat would need vocal rest. But compared to other injuries—like Garen, who was still in critical condition with survival pending—he was a lucky man.

Obi-Wan didn’t feel lucky. He survived the duel, but he was defeated in a way he could not entirely explain to people without the Force.

Anakin joined Padmé in the celebrations, impressing her with his heroic tale of taking down the control ship. Obi-Wan listened to Anakin’s riveting tale of plunging into the battleship’s main hanger and while he was aware he should have scolded Anakin on his disobedience and recklessness, he found he didn’t have the heart to do so. Anakin survived and saved a planet. He deserved the honors and praises without the lecture.

And now, Obi-Wan found himself a secluded place to reflect what has happened the past two weeks and the future to come.

His mind was lost. He walked in a fog that wouldn’t lift. The Battle for Naboo only lasted six hours. From the moment they landed to the point Obi-Wan found himself staring out in the setting sun, only six hours passed.

Yet, it felt like he lived his whole life. Six hours became sixty years.

He recognized the jubilant cheers from the celebration below and noted the broken droids that were piled up high in the plaza as a bonfire. The control ship was destroyed. The blockade disabled. And the Neimoidians arrested for war crimes. Naboo was completely free.

Yet, Obi-Wan felt chained.

A soft clip of a boot intruded on his solitude. Most likely another handmaiden the Queen sent to check on him. Obi-Wan stepped away from his hideaway to report he was alive and well when he came to a dead halt.

It was not a handmaiden.

In the warm glow of the setting sun, blue eyes shimmered like the Solleu River flowing through the city. Blonde hair blazed gold, fastened in one of the more simplistic hairstyles. The outfit was plain, easy to blend in a chaotic city. The appearance unnoticed if one didn’t pay attention.

Obi-Wan noticed. How could he not?

Satine. Oh Satine.

A tiny smirk graced the Duchess’s face upon seeing Obi-Wan’s stunned reaction. “Obi-Wan,” she said, stopping short of approaching him. “I was told I might find you here.”

Obi-Wan searched for his voice. “Satine? I—what are you doing here?”

Satine was perplexed. “What do you mean?” she asked. “ _You_ called.”

“Yes, I did, but I didn’t think…” Obi-Wan closed the gap between them, staring down into her eyes. “I didn’t think you would _personally_ come.”

Satine turned to move closer to the window, the night finally conquering the day. “Of course I would come,” she said. “I needed to return the favor.”

“There was no favor to return.”

Satine modestly shrugged, her eyes peering up at Obi-Wan with quiet affection. Obi-Wan drowned in them. He sunk into their shared memories, the fleeting touches and moments where their hearts beat as one. A teardrop of emotions trickled from his flawless control. Pieces chipped away, exposing him to the raw pain he concealed too well in front of others. Everyone, but Satine.

Seeing her again was gratifying and wondrous and painful and regretful. A single word could rip open the wounds again. The ones he patched unevenly years ago. Though he dreamed of her on nights he felt the loneliest, he never spoke of her. She stayed inside his heart. Safe and secured.

And now, she broke out. Satine stood before him still as beautiful as he remembered. She cupped the side of his head, her thumb brushing away evidence of his love. Her touch crumbled him and he fell into her embrace, resting his head in the nook of her neck.

They stayed like that. Clasped together in sanctuary and hope. In peace and unrest. In love and hurt. Many years ago, on a night like this when they narrowly escaped with their lives, they held each other to recognize their survival and solace. A promise that all will be well in the end.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, relaxing in Satine’s arms. She smelled of fresh meadow and Obi-Wan’s mind sprouted a memory of them standing in a soft meadow, waiting for Qui-Gon to return with supplies. It was the first time she kissed him. He remembered how soft her lips were on his own. How warm they felt against his cold touch. How his heart trembled and his stomach fluttered. How his hands raised to hold her.

He drew back from Satine, his callous hands brushing a strand of fine silver-gold hair out of her face. He leaned. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it. Warm breath fluttered between them. The close proximity bringing them back to their earlier years. Wild hopes flaring up young hearts.

Her and him. Him and her. Them.

The kiss was gentle. Powerful in the way it banished every ache in his mind and body. All of the darkness that convoluted him fled in the blinding light. Blissful. Pure like the Force.

And it was ripped away when Satine took a step back.

“We can’t.”

They broke. Satine didn’t dare look up and Obi-Wan was wrought with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to discomfort her.

Satine moved. Her feet sliding across the marble to the window, eyes cast downward to the celebrations below. “Remember how it all started?” she asked, her voice drifted into the silence like a tender whisper for only him to hear. “How it all ended?”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, covering up his slip and restoring his controlled mien. “I’m sorry,” he said again. He meant it. Their last parting was difficult and it broke them. When he departed with Qui-Gon, he died. And when he died, she died too. Their souls burned on the pyre of their love.

And it still burned.

Satine straightened, shoulders back and returning to her Duchess stature. “We can never go back,” she muttered. “Let us move only forward.”

Obi-Wan agreed. “Yes, of course,” he said, wanting to move pass his slip. “Let’s discuss the reason I called.”

He glanced around the corridor. It was relatively empty with the exception of Satine’s personal guard that Obi-Wan only just noticed hanging at the end of the corridor. However, Obi-Wan knew better than to trust sight alone. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” he urged. “This is a delicate matter.”

“I’m aware,” Satine said, turning away from the window and following him down the corridor.

Her guards joined them, keeping at least five steps behind them. Obi-Wan led them through the palace, taking Satine to his private quarters that Padmé established for him and Anakin. He unlocked the door, and ushered both Satine and her guards into the room. But Satine held her hand up, instructing the guards to remain outside to guard the door.

The guards took their post on either side of the door. Obi-Wan secured the lock behind him. “This place is safe,” he told Satine. “I checked it for all communications.”

The quarters designated to them were lavished. It had a grand opening with two sofas-couches, an entertainment center, and four shelving units filled with reading materials. In a secluded area was a small kitchen and dining room complete with a food and drinks. On the opposite side was the bedroom. Unlike the normal cramped and stiff beddings Obi-Wan and Anakin were accustomed too, this bed was opulent and soft. The body sank into the foam and the mattress formed around the body to comfort it. Anakin couldn’t help but drop himself in the bed upon arriving, letting himself sink into its depths. But, Anakin had run off to join Padmé, leaving it in a wrinkled and disheveled state of disturbance.

Obi-Wan joined Satine at the sofa-couches. “Sorry for the secrecy,” he said. “But I need to ensure we are not overheard.”

“That’s fine,” Satine said, placing her hands on her lap as she eyed the place. “I never thought you to be living in a palace.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at a sarcastic angle. “Only in dirt and caves, right?” he challenged with humor. “Don’t worry, Duchess. I won’t be staying long here. It’s just for the night. Queen Amidala insisted.”

He ambled to the kitchen. “Anything to drink or eat?”

“Tea would be nice.”

Obi-Wan put on a kettle and returned to the sofa-couches. He chose to sit across from Satine. “I’m grateful that Mandalore heeded my call. I know the relationship with the Jedi is not good.”

Satine dipped her chin with one brow arching in fluttered amusement. “That is putting it mildly, Obi-Wan,” she said. “But I have good memories of the Jedi. That is why we came upon the call.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you much details over the com. Delicate matters,” he murmured, disturbed once again by the mere thought of being overheard by a non-friendly. “I need your assistance in smuggling a boy out of Naboo.”

Satine’s eyebrows sharpened. The icy demeanor she had on Mandalore returned. “You want me to commit a crime?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No! Of course not!” he said, hurriedly. “No, he’s—it’s complicated. His name is Anakin and he’s in grave danger. He needs a place to hide and I… I had hoped Mandalore would do the honor of keeping him safe for a period of time.”

Satine cold features melted. Her narrowed eyes slacked as she tentatively continued to listen.

“I’m sure you probably heard the news that I am a wanted man,” Obi-Wan explained and he waited for Satine to acknowledge the statement. She did nothing. Obi-Wan continued on. “Long ago, I abandoned the Order and took a child with me. I feared for his safety if I left him behind. Since then, we’ve been hiding.

“Unfortunately, the Trade Federation’s invasion of Naboo exposed our location,” Obi-Wan said. “It won’t be long before they come for Anakin. To protect him, I need to smuggle him off planet tonight.

“Queen Amidala is aware of the plan. She will be providing decoy ships per Master Yoda’s instructions” Obi-Wan explained, staring at her with moonlit eyes and a beggar’s cry. “I hope that, if you accept Duchess, you would take Anakin to Mandalore, disguise him as some sort of nephew or long-lost relative of yours. Protect him under your regime until I can return for him.”

“Where will you be?” Satine queried, taking in the request with scrutinizing contemplation.

Obi-Wan fell back against the cushions of his seat, rubbing his hand along his bare prickly jawline. “Hopefully distracting them away from Anakin’s position,” he said. “Once it’s safe, I will come back for Anakin. I promise. For now, I need to get him to safety. He doesn’t realize or understand the danger he is in and I fear if we stay in Naboo any longer it will put him in jeopardy.”

He noticed Satine’s mouth curve down in sympathetic concern. After all, she lived a year of her life in danger and on the run. If anyone understood, it would be Satine.

Obi-Wan inched closer, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Will Mandalore help us?” he pleaded, once again finding himself at her mercy. “Will _you_ help us?”

Already he knew the answer. He could feel it through the Force. Her confusion remained, but her acceptance to the task was clear. She gave a single nod. “I’ll escort young Anakin out of Naboo and he shall receive protection under House Kryze.”

Obi-Wan let out a grateful sigh. “Thank you.”

The kettle whistled low, drawing the attention of the occupants toward its steam. Obi-Wan got up and walked to the stove just when it was ready to scream. He pulled it off the stove top and found two teacups. He steeped tea leaves in the water and waited for a minute or two before he poured the steamy tea in the cups.

With an easy grace, he balanced the two full teacups and passed one to Satine. The Duchess accepted the tea and blew the top of her tea, watching the steam wisp away by her breath. Obi-Wan set his tea down to cool on its own accord.

“You have questions,” Obi-Wan observed as he watched her slowly take a sip of the tea. “Please—ask.”

Satine set her tea down, her fingers tapping the tip. “I have heard of your plight. Many people in the galaxy have,” she stated matter-of-factly. “What I don’t understand is why you ran from the Jedi Order. It seems you are still in favor with Master Yoda. Why would you run? Didn’t you always want to be a Jedi?”

Obi-Wan reached for his tea, not caring that a single touch scalded his skin. “I did… I do—it’s complicated,” he said, taking an unsteady drink. “Do you remember when I talked about the Jedi history to you?”

Satine nodded.

“Do you remember what I said about the Sith?”

Again, Satine nodded.

“I wasn’t running away from the Order,” Obi-Wan clarified. “I was running away from _them_.”

Satine arched a quizzical brow. “The Sith are extinct, Obi-Wan. You told me that yourself.”

“I lied.”

Satine stared, blanked. She leaned back in her seat, befuddled and hurt by his deception. Obi-Wan moved to the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees as he spoke with care. “I had to lie to you, Satine. It wasn’t safe for you.”

She looked up, startled by the assertion. “What do you mean I wasn’t safe? I was with you and Master Jinn! And already, I wasn’t safe in my own home planet because of a civil war. What could have possibly put me in any more danger?”

Obi-Wan fixed a hard gaze at her. “My master.”

Satine nearly spilled her tea. With the Force, Obi-Wan guided it back to the table ledge. Her face had drained of color as her widening eyes looked to Obi-Wan with a plea to tell her it wasn’t true at all. She stared hard at his face, waiting for a smile to crack, an eye to twinkle—anything to say she heard wrong.

It didn’t come. She twisted her dress in her fingers. “Master Jinn? A Sith?” she repeated, a mere shocking whisper. “But... he was protecting me! You and he helped me restore peace on Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Qui-Gon portrayed himself as a dutiful Jedi,” he said with depressed acknowledgment. “But he’s a Sith. Has been since I turned fifteen years old.” A pregnant pause interrupted as both he and Satine took in the truth. “I never said a word about him to you. I feared what would happened if I did.”

The blue blaze of her wrath returned in her eyes. “You should have told me,” Satine argued. “I would have liked to know that I was mingling with someone who would see harm to me and others!”

“I wouldn’t have let it happen,” Obi-Wan assured her. “I would have protected you.”

“Like you did with the venom-mites?”

Obi-Wan scowled. “Excuse me Duchess, but I recall carrying you to safety.”

“After you dropped me,” she said, clipped. She narrowed her eyes on him. The blue irises like icicles shooting straight to his bones. “Tell me the truth. Would you have been able to beat Master Jinn?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to contrast her. To defend himself at her accusation, but it dawned on him that no words came to his defense. He couldn’t rebuke it. He closed his mouth, downcast. It only riled Satine up more.

“So you left me uninformed and had me dependent on a Sith Lord!” she accused, teeth baring down in a snarl. She shot up to her feet, glaring down at him with vivid displeasure. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop him if he decided I wasn’t worth it.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have defended you!” Obi-Wan insisted, rising to his feet as well. Did she not listen to a word he said? He would have laid down his life to save her. “You think I would let him hurt you?”

“I wouldn’t know! You were an obedient Jedi. Following his commands,” Satine impugned, a sweet bitterness chewed out on her teeth. “If he was a Sith that entire time, why didn’t you leave him? Why didn’t you run?”

A more difficult question to answer. Obi-Wan’s shoulders slackened. It was a question he wondered for years. Why did he return to Qui-Gon? He had the chance to leave. He could have stayed on Mandalore, lived with Satine and have a happier and easier life. He wouldn’t have to live on the run or be hunted. He could have lived in Satine’s offer of peace instead of being dragged around by Dooku and Qui-Gon. It was an escape from the cruelties that cloaked his future.

Satine’s anger was understandable. He had inadvertently placed her in Qui-Gon’s path. Placed her in the eyes of the serpent, ready to be devoured if time called for it. But, the anger wasn’t at the danger that Qui-Gon posed to her. Her anger was a gift from Obi-Wan. She silently offered her heart and he rejected for a life of pain. They could love one another without any guilt or chaos that came from one being a Jedi and the other a Duchess. He knew of the torturous path he led and yet, he still chose it over her. Over their happiness and love. He chose pain than love.

Satine grew impatient with his silence. “Well?”

Obi-Wan wiped his face with his hand. “You make it sound like I had a choice,” he said. “I couldn’t leave.”

Belly clenched as he remembered when they stood in the throne room, the unspoken question lingering between them. He at least owed her an explanation for everything he did on Mandaolore. Explain the reasons why he caused her pain. Obi-Wan fumbled with his sleeve’s ends, looking through a despondent haze.

“It’s not because I didn’t want to be with you,” Obi-Wan quietly enforced. He needed her to know that. If he could, he would have always been at her side to protect her. “I really had no choice. I _had_ to go.”

In very few words, he showed her the bleeding heart that bled and crusted in cycles. Every ounce of love he held for her was confessed. He showed her the weapon that killed him. The very act which broke him in pieces while he wore a straight face. He wanted to reach for her and hold close, to be saved, to spare her the sacrifice. He took his own life for her, and for so many years, he lived with the regret of breaking her heart.

Satine’s anger melted into a sad understanding. The flame that rampaged her smothered out and she cradled her elbows at the confession. Slowly, she glided across, bridging the gap between them. The moonlight hit her face, making her skin as pale as the dead. A beautiful horror to Obi-Wan.

Her hands tenderly caress Obi-Wan’s cheek. She regarded him with an edge of pity and remorse. “What has he done to you?”

Obi-Wan clasped his own hand around hers. “Nothing that didn’t heal in time,” he reassured her with a small smile. “He hasn’t destroyed me yet.”

Satine’s fingers trembled under Obi-Wan’s callous hands. Her lungs barely expanding at the realization of what he did all those years ago. She drew closer, her head resting against his chest. She was listening to his troubled heart, secured in knowing it at least beat for her.

Obi-Wan closed his arms around her, resting his head on her head. He hadn’t meant to trouble her with his problems. He didn’t regret the actions. Only the consequences. He did what he had to keep her safe. She did what she had to do to save her planet. Both wrapped in their love and folly for one another.

It was funny how they had slowly fallen in love. At the beginning, they couldn’t stand each other. Obi-Wan disliked being in her presence, listening to her criticize the Order for their use of weapons and justification to use it as a symbol of peace. To him, she was an idealist and needed to realize that bloodshed was inevitable in cases of civil war. But, Qui-Gon kept leaving him in charge of her safety when he left to gather supplies or investigate.

It was those moments together that things began to blur. Arguments turned to banter. Disgust turned to respect. Unbearable turned to fleeting touches. Their rhythm changes, fast and uncontrolled to slow and steady. In those brief times, they forgotten who they were, what they were, and what they were to become. Two stars falling from their rigid constellation to burn as bright as starlight before turning to stardust, scattered when the winds shifted them in different directions.

A heartbreaking ending for something that was pure and true. But they knew how it would end. Their tryst was always going to end in suffering.

And it did. Obi-Wan left her and she left him. Neither willing to kill the other, to force them to give up their birthrights. In an unfortunate turn of events, Obi-Wan made the hard choice. He took his own life. He sacrificed himself so that Satine could live in peace and rule her planet without the troubles he would bring to her.

Obi-Wan heard a small snuffle and through the Force, he felt her sadness and tears. He desperately wanted to remove her suffering. His hands moved up her back, rubbing tiny circles along her spine to undo the knots that formed. She sighed against him and Obi-Wan didn’t see the Duchess of Mandalore. He saw, in his arms, the young woman he dreamed of so often. The woman in his visions that brought happiness, laughter and blissfulness.

She returned and was cradled in his arms.

Satine lifted her head up. He looked down.

Warm breath fluttered, kindling a dry desire into a blazing flame. The fire disintegrated all the pretense they kept, leaving them vulnerable for ruins. They gave each other a weapon, ready to receive destruction or salvation. They had once peaked behind the curtain. They experienced the tilting of the axis, the drop in gravity. They remembered how close they have gotten. The exultation! The regret! Entwined together.

They remembered how it started.

They remembered how it ended.

Yet, neither were willing to stab the other. There was no rescue. No life or death choice. Only them in the chasm of the unspoken longing and forgiveness. Nothing to slow their descent. Gentle and emphatic, they pressed together, a bright promise of brief salvation for the black nights to come.  


	18. This Is Not Forever

“What happened here?”

Satine’s finger traced the side of his body. His chest was a montage of scars and bruises. It was hard to tell which one she was referring to. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes from her elegant face to his scarred body.

“Oh. That one?” Obi-Wan said, looking at the reddish-purple line that went from his armpit to half way down his chest. “That was from a lightsaber. Given to me by Dooku for disobedience.”

Satine’s head raised from the pillow. “Disobedience?”

Obi-Wan nodded, his arm looped around her back and fingers massaging her shoulder. “Apparently, I need to rein in my sarcasm,” he said with a silly, but proud grin. “I was in and out of bacta tanks for a week to recover. Qui-Gon was quite upset.” Obi-Wan rubbed his chin in thought. “Though, I believe Dooku regretted his actions later.”

“Why do you say that?” she inquired, clearly in disbelief that a Sith, who callously attacked another, would be regretful.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He bought me a hand-crafted, marble Dejarik set.”

“That is his version of an apology?” Satine said with disdain. “Buying you a lavish board game?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. A nine hundred credit Dejarik set is nothing to him,” Obi-Wan said. The Count of Serenno was a wealthy man. One of the wealthiest in the galaxy and money was never an issue. If it was, then Obi-Wan was so terribly sorry for the other man. “His apology came in the form of letting me win a game of Dejarik _with_ that set.”

“And that won your forgiveness?” Satine’s mouth curled tight, reproved.

“No, it did not,” Obi-Wan stated, though exhaustion seemed to have overcome him when he spoke. “It never did.”

Satine curled closer to him, moving her head from the pillow to his chest. Her silver-gold hair cascading over his scars, concealing the brutalities from their eyes. Her soft palm laid on top of him, her nimble fingers exploring his breast. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, fading into her touches.

There was a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” murmured Satine.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered opened again, spying the sadness that caressed the Duchess’s face. “The fault is not yours, Satine,” he said quietly as he took her wandering hand. Lips brushed up against her knuckles in sweet apology. “Don’t dwell on things outside of your control.”

“Jedi proverb,” she ridicule though with no true animosity.

A smirk glinted his features. “Still holds true.”

Satine poked him hard in the side. “Oof!” Obi-Wan groaned upon the impact. “I thought you discouraged violence, my Lady?”

“You bring out the worst in me,” she remarked, dryly.

Obi-Wan cradled her, carefully sliding on top so that he could stare deep into her eyes. “Do I?” he said with a facetious smile. He stroked her cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead. “What about now, my dear?”

A moan escaped Satine’s lips as she arched her hips up. “Even worse.”

Obi-Wan dropped lower, leaving another kiss on her nose, then on her pink lips and down to her chin. He glided over her, a groan of yearning granting permission. He was ready to enter her domain, dropping tender kisses in the crevice of the Duchess's breasts.

Then he felt it. An irritation in the Force, emitting displeasure.

Satine saw the swift change in his expression. “What is it? What’s wrong, Obi?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured. “He’s outside.”

He immediately got off the bed, searching for the clothes they haphazardly took off one another. Satine helped him. They both quickly fastened themselves into their proper attire. Satine was pulling her hair back into a simple knot when Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s voice loud and clear through the door.

“I don’t understand!” Anakin’s voice carried. “This is my room! Why can’t I go in?”

Obi-Wan hurried to the door as Satine quickly exited the bedroom, returning to her seat on the sofa-couch. They both gave each other the once over, checking that none of their affair was visible. Despite the somewhat disheveled appearance, there was no evidence.

Obi-Wan unlocked the door and slid it open to find Anakin standing outside as expected, with Mandalorian guards blocking his path. Anakin glanced up to Obi-Wan, clearly not amused by the show.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said, squinting up at him in irritation. “What’s going on? Who are these guys?”

Obi-Wan shuffled Anakin into the room, closing the door behind him. “I apologize for the confusion,” he said to his young charge. “The guards are here because of our guest.“

That tidbit interested Anakin. "Guest?”

Obi-Wan nudged his head in the opposite direction in indication. Anakin looked and spotted Satine sitting on the sofa-couch. His face tightened. “Did I interrupt something?” he whispered to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s cheeks warmed only a little. “No, no, no. We were only chatting,” he lied to brush away any suspicion Anakin may have. “Anakin? Please let me introduce you to Duchess Satine of Mandalore.”

Satine rose from the sofa-couch. Her composure was back to that of the Duchess. Satine—the woman he loved—retreated and reposed to the detached ruler of Mandalore. But, Obi-Wan saw a flicker of Satine shining through as she regarded Anakin. There was a tenderness, a soft-heart, for the boy.

Anakin struck out his hand, but then hesitated. He pulled his hand back and offered an awkward bow. But he faltered again, glancing up to Obi-Wan for guidance on how to greet a “duchess”.

Luckily, Satine spared the boy from embarrassment. She took his hand after a moment and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young Skywalker,” she said in her strong Mandalorian accent. “Master Kenobi told me a little about you.”

Anakin flicked a glance to Obi-Wan, a question on his lips as to know why he was speaking about him. He looked back to Satine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh of relief. Anakin was following proper etiquette for once. His time with Padmé helped him, Obi-Wan imagined. “Anakin—I’m surprised to see you back so early. Are the celebrations over?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin gave him a fickle glance. “It’s nine o’clock.”

Obi-Wan blinked. Was it really? “Oh—so you decided you had enough of the party?”

Again, Anakin looked up in confusion. “It’s nine o’clock,” he repeated again. “You said that’s my curfew.”

That’s right. He did. For once, Anakin decided to follow his rules. At a time when he wished he didn’t. “Of course. Right,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Best you get to bed.”

Anakin turned to the Duchess. “It was nice to meet you,” he said and he did another bow.

Satine gave him a polite nod of acceptance. Without any more thought, Anakin headed to the bedroom when Obi-Wan realized that the sheets and covers were still tangled in action of the illicit tryst that happened just minutes before Anakin’s arrival.

Not wanting to expose the clandestine affair, Obi-Wan redirected Anakin to the sofa-couches. “You know what?” he said to the boy. “Why don’t you join Satine and me? Learn a bit of the Mandalorian culture.”

Anakin was surprised by Obi-Wan’s redirection. He stared oddly up at Obi-Wan’s face and Obi-Wan felt a light, gentle poke against his Force shield. Obi-Wan chose to ignore the probing and directed Anakin to the sofa-couches.

“We were about to have another cup of tea,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin as the Duchess took her original position on the opposite sofa-couch. “Would you like some Muja juice, water or would you like to surprise me and have a cup of tea as well?”

“Water is fine,” Anakin said, still baffled about the weird behavior. He lowered his voice so that only Obi-Wan could hear. "Is everything okay?”

“Yes, quite well,” Obi-Wan hurriedly replied and with Anakin looking in the other direction, he used the Force to close the bedroom door. “Why don’t you tell the Duchess a little about yourself while I get the drinks?”

Obi-Wan stepped away as Anakin shyly began speaking to Satine. Obi-Wan brewed another pot of tea, leaning against the counter to relieve the tension that built up in his nervous anticipation of Anakin catching them. He was not ready to discuss the birds and the bees to Anakin. It would come up jumbled and awkward to the point of confusion.

No, it was a good thing Anakin didn’t see or sense anything.

He returned with the tea pot and a glass of water for Anakin. As he approached he heard Anakin talking eagerly to the Duchess. “Obi-Wan has raised me since I was three, I think,” he informed Satine. “He’s my father.”

Obi-Wan tripped, nearly dropping the tea pot and water altogether. The clutter of noise drew Anakin and Satine’s eyes to him. Obi-Wan straightened, readjusting the pot. “Anakin, I’m not your father,” he gently chided. “I’m your guardian.”

“Same thing,” Anakin said as Obi-Wan handed him his water.

“No, it’s not,” Obi-Wan said, pouring the tea into Satine’s cup. “We’re not related.”

That didn’t dissuade Anakin from his belief. “Padmé said that you don’t have to be related to be a mother or a father figure,” he argued. “She said that you’re my father in that way.”

“Queen Amidala,” Obi-Wan corrected his rebellious ward. “You must respect her title, Anakin. We can no longer call her Padmé as we did on Tatooine.”

“She doesn’t mind.”

“She’s being nice,” Obi-Wan countered and he finished up refilling his cup. “You must show her the same respect as any Queen. Even if she is a friend.”

Anakin looked scorned by the reprimand. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought Anakin was going to form his own rebuttal or storm off. Instead, he shoved his water up to Obi-Wan. “I changed my mind,” he said. “I want the Muja juice.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow furrowed. He had forgotten how irritating Anakin could be when the boy was upset. “Go get it yourself,” he said. “You’re a big boy.”

Anakin turned around on the couch. He reached his hand out in the direction of the cooling unit. The door of the cooling unit trembled before it cracked open. A few seconds later, a small bottle of Muja juice was floating in their direction.

Obi-Wan huffed out hot air and redirected the juice bottle into his hands. Anakin pouted. “Hey!” he called out.

“You do not use the Force to accommodate your laziness,” Obi-Wan scolded and he pocketed the bottle. “No Muja juice. You’re sticking with water.”

Anakin slumped on the sofa-couch, frowning, but added no further comment. Obi-Wan was fine with that. After all, he preferred the silent treatment than Anakin’s more hot, temper tantrums. He sat down next to Anakin, giving a fleeting look of an apology to Satine.

“Apologies, my Lady,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m afraid someone must have forgotten their manners.”

Anakin shifted, to the other end of the sofa-couch and away from Obi-Wan. Satine watched on with inquisitive interest. A light smile that Obi-Wan almost thought she found the whole scene surreal rather than rude.

Satine only looked humored by the conversation. “If I recall correctly Kenobi, you sometimes exhibited those very same traits when you were on Mandalore.”

“You were on Mandalore?” Anakin interrupted, forgetting the silent treatment already. He looked to the Duchess as he spoke. “Is that how you met?”

Satine slid her eyes from Anakin to Obi-Wan with a mild suggestion that threatened to engulf Obi-Wan with embarrassing stories. “Indeed, Skywalker. Kenobi here was sent to be one of my protectors during a controversial transition of power,” she said to Anakin. “Though, at times, I had to do the rescuing myself.”

Obi-Wan frowned at her. “Forgive me, my Lady,” he said, his tea in hand. “If you are referring to the incident on Concordia, I distinctively remember doing most of the work.”

“I still saved your life.”

“Yes well,” Obi-Wan said after taking a small drink of tea, “my rescues were the more daring of the two.”

Satine arched her eyebrow sardonically at him. “Including the one where you dropped me on venom-mites?”

A wryly grin appeared on Obi-Wan’s face. “I still saved your life.”

Satine directed a glare at him, meant to wipe off that smirk. It only encouraged Obi-Wan a little bit more. He flashed her a wink, passing on that the two could play this same game again like they did years ago. After all, he sometimes enjoyed the fire within Satine.

“You think you’re so charming, don’t you Kenobi?” Satine challenged, miffed. “I feel I must remind you that your charms are more aligned with aggravations.”

“Aggravations?” Obi-Wan repeated, half-amused by her accusation. “A bit hyperbole of you, considering how ungrateful you were on most days for saving your life.”

“If by ungrateful, you mean when you insisted on bloodshed rather than peace?” Satine raised, her eyes turning ice again. “Then yes. I was extremely ungrateful.”

“Hard to initiate peace over the sounds of blaster fire.”

“I never thought of you to hide behind excuses, Kenobi,” Satine said, a flash of indignation crossing her face.

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan answered. “But I know when to stop being naïve.”

Satine’s face went rigid. Her jawline more visible and eyes narrowed close like daggers. Mouth taut as she straightened her back, proud, dignified and furious to make others cower. “You consider me foolhardy, then? For being a pacifist?”

Obi-Wan quietly reprimanded himself for his lack of tact. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Satine didn’t relax. “Oh—I think you did,” she said. “Even after everything, you still delude yourself into believing that fighting is the answer to peace.” She rose from her seat. “Excuse me, but I must wash a stint from my face and hands.”

Obi-Wan subtly flinched upon Satine’s hard strike. His eyes followed her, wounded by her words. He had no desire to return to their belittled arguments of philosophy. He always respected the Duchess’s ideals, even if they were far-fetched. Her courage to insist on peace was brave and a daunting task for Mandalore. And she did it with spirit and determination. Something he always admired about her.

When Duchess disappeared into the refresher, Anakin, who had stayed quiet during their bickering, turned to Obi-Wan with a wide smirk. “I like her.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth was pressed into straight line as he glared at his young ward. “Of course you do.”

When the Duchess returned, Anakin shared vivid stories to her about their fugitive days before divulging different type of ships. Satine ignored Obi-Wan completely, drawing her attention to Anakin the entire time. Obi-Wan could hardly even catch her eye as she deliberately made sure it was impossible for him.

Soon, the conversation turned to the Mandalorian culture. Satine was generous in Anakin’s probing of her culture. He kept asking question after question, acting disturbed by the violent history. That garnered much appreciation from Satine, who threw Obi-Wan a smug look. Obi-Wan only tilted his head in acknowledgment, but an easy smile rested on his face. He too was happy of Anakin’s distaste of violence. He would have been concerned if Anakin showed extreme interest in the Death Watch.

After a couple of hours talking, only Obi-Wan and Satine were awake. Anakin had drifted to slumber. He tried to stay awake. His eyes slowly blinking, his body jerking in alert. But eventually, he timbered over and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s knee like a pillow.

The room fell silent. Satine refused to speak or even look over. The Mandalorian pride kept her from initiating the first step toward forgiveness, which again surprised Obi-Wan. For someone who preferred peace over war, she was certainly not a forgiving person. Or at least, when it came to him.

If anyone had to start the trail of reconnection, it would have to be him. Obi-Wan sighed, still stroking Anakin’s hair as the boy slept on. “Duchess?” he said, hoping to get her to glance over. It did not. He needed her to look at him “Satine. Please? I would like to apologize with you looking at me.”

Slowly she turned, skepticism in her eyes. Once Obi-Wan got the blue crystal view, he began. “I know we have our differences in terms of political philosophies,” he said, “but I never considered you foolhardy. A dreamer—yes. Not everyone is as idealistic as you and you may have to find new ways to handle those extremists.

“However, I do highly respect you, Satine,” Obi-Wan continued, each word measured with true sincerity. “You turned an entire culture of warriors into peaceful civilians. You had years of prosperity and peace that Mandalore never experienced before. And, you did it on your own.”

Obi-Wan breathed deeply as he gazed warmly to thaw out the ice in Satine’s demeanor. “You, Satine, are a remarkable woman and I am honored to consider you as a friend.”

Satine eased her face to a grudging acquiescence. “That’s not an apology.”

Obi-Wan bristled at the comment. Somethings don’t always change. “I apologize for my distasteful words against you, Your Highness,” he said, a bit more flowering than he would have under the circumstances. “Please forgive me for my insult against your philosophies.”

Satine let the words linger in the air, refreshing the room into the friendlier atmosphere it once was. She tilted her chin down, a small curve of a smile showing. “Forgiven,” she declared.

The spell broke and they openly smiled at each other again. They returned to an easy talk, reminiscing old adventures and correctly each other's memory on particular incidents. It appeared the Duchess remembered things far differently than they were. Obi-Wan told Satine a little more about his time as a fugitive, explaining how he and Anakin survived on very little.

His stories, however, seemed to upset Satine. Her face fell upon listening to the struggles and the constant bounty hunters targeting them. Obi-Wan stopped talking. “Are you okay, Satine? You look unwell.”

Satine rubbed her hands over her arms. “Your life… the constant running,” she said with a tremble. “We barely survived a year on Mandalore. I don’t know how you managed to do it for seven years.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It was necessary. I had Anakin to consider.”

"Yes, you did,” Satine agreed. “Which is why I am also confused.” She looked down to Anakin’s sleeping form then back to Obi-Wan’s face. “Why didn’t you seek shelter on Mandalore? You would have been protected there and raised Anakin in a more balanced, peaceful environment.”

“We couldn’t,” Obi-Wan countered Satine’s arguments. “It would be one of the first places Qui-Gon would have looked for us. And, I had no desire to put you in the middle of my war against them. Bring violence and terror back to your planet… no. I wouldn’t allow that.” Obi-Wan shook his head at the mere thought of what would have happened if Qui-Gon or Dooku came to Mandalore. “So, we fled to the Outer Rims. Not exactly safe, but at least invisible.”

Satine was pained, but small nod meant she understood his reasoning. “What about now, though?” she questioned. “Are you not setting the Sith onto Mandalore by sending Anakin there?”

“If all goes to plan, they won’t even realize Anakin is on Mandalore,” Obi-Wan hoped, glancing down at the sleeping child, "and I will be back in, at the most, a week’s time to collect him.”

“Is that what you want?”

Obi-Wan resigned. “No, but it is needed. I cannot let either Qui-Gon or Dooku get Anakin,” he said and his arm unconsciously draped across Anakin in a protective shield. “I won’t let them.”

“Then we shall ensure they don’t,” Satine avowed, her eyes mellowing to Anakin’s tired form as the boy curled underneath Obi-Wan’s arm.

Just then, Obi-Wan’s comlink beeped. Obi-Wan hastily answered. “This is Kenobi.”

A static grabbled came through that sounded eerily like Captain Panaka’s voice. “Time is of the essence.”

The coded message. Received, Kenobi ended the call and clipped it to his belt. Time to go. He looked back at Satine. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Satine drew herself up from the sofa-couch. She brushed her outfit down, removing any upset wrinkles from sitting. “I am not one to shrink from responsibilities.”

“No,” Obi-Wan softly agreed. “You don’t.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to pack. They had no belongings. Just whatever they were wearing was considered theirs. But, Obi-Wan managed to scrounge up a few items: a bottle of water, food, hygienic products from the refresher and a handheld stun blaster. He reminded himself that Anakin wasn’t going to be alone. Satine would take care of him and provide all the things he could not like new clothes, shoes and other small comforts. Anakin wasn’t going to be alone. He needed to keep reminding himself as he finished packing Anakin’s bag and scooped up the sleeping child into his arms.

Anakin trustingly nestled in Obi-Wan’s arms, a soft breath of air slipped passed his parted lips. He was unaware of the quick movements around him, blissfully asleep. Obi-Wan was thankful. If Anakin was awake, Obi-Wan knew he would resist at the idea of leaving Naboo. It was the best thing for Anakin. Even if Anakin didn’t understand or see it that way.

The night sky camouflage their bodies, the shadows veiling their faces. Obi-Wan with Satine and her guards, hurried down the corridor that led to the outside hangers of Theed. When they arrived, they spotted multiple ships and a handful of pilots. They were all prepping for an extended trip to some destination. Standing in the middle of the hanger was Queen Amidala, dressed in her handmaiden attire, and Captain Panaka. 

“Glad you made it, Obi-Wan,” Queen Amidala greeted and then she turned to Satine. She bowed. “Duchess.”

Satine returned with a respective bow. “Queen Amidala,” she said. “Mandalore is honored to assist you in this mission.”

“We are grateful for your assistance,” the Queen returned and she spoke to Obi-Wan. “We hired our most trustworthy pilots to take different routes. That should give the necessary cover for the ship to arrive at the targeted destination.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Obi-Wan said, bowing his head as an equivalent to a deep, formal brow. “Your compassion has helped Anakin and me greatly. I don’t know how we could return the favor, but if you ever need us—”

Queen Amidala raised her hand. “You do not owe me anything, Obi-Wan,” she said. “If it weren’t for you and Anakin, Naboo would still be held hostage to the Trade Federation. Or worse.”

She stepped aside and led the group to their ship. It was full stocked and ready to go. The guards entered first, scoping the small ship out before letting Satine to join on board. Their pilot hopped into the cockpit and checked the equipment. Padmé stood at the end of the ramp, watching in melancholy. Obi-Wan felt the same. After their dangerous adventure together, there was an incredible bond between the three of them. He had a strong sense of foreboding that the three of them would meet again. He only wished it would be in better circumstances.

Obi-Wan carried Anakin onto the ship and directly to the seats. He slowly and carefully slipped Anakin out his arms and into one of the seats. As he did, the boy rustled, eyes blinked sleepily. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan with some groggily awareness. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin groaned as he flopped his head to the side. “What… am I… sleep?”

Obi-Wan chuckled lightly as he threw the belts over Anakin’s shoulders. “Yes.”

Anakin sighed loudly, too tired to become alert. His hand reached out, snagging on the sleeves of Obi-Wan’s robes. “…stay.”

Obi-Wan froze. He looked at Anakin. The boy slumped, head rolled to the side and fell back asleep. His little hand loosened and dropped from Obi-Wan’s sleeve. Did the Anakin know? Did the Force warn him of their separation? Or was he sleep-talking? Asking about staying in Obi-Wan room for the night because of a nightmare? Obi-Wan didn’t know. And the unknown made it more challenging for him to continue.

Obi-Wan stopped strapping Anakin into the seat. He looked back at his young charge, brushing the blonde-brown strands of hair out of his face. He remembered when Anakin’s hair was bleached blonde. When he was a toddler, Anakin received so many coos from women over his blonde hair and blue eyes. They adored him and his cupid smile. As he aged, the blonde hair turned a shade darker and his chubby cheeks sharpened. Obi-Wan could see the man Anakin would become even behind the elfin features of the boy. 

The years were coming up too fast. Soon, Anakin would be a teenager, rebelling and his connection to the Force increasing in strength. He won’t be able to carry Anakin to safety or be able to stop Anakin if the boy wished to go his own way. Soon, Anakin won’t need him anymore.

Obi-Wan sighed. He always knew it would happen, but this separation sped it faster than he realized. It wasn’t going to be the last he saw of Anakin. It was only a minor separation. A week tops. Plus, Anakin was in safe hands. The Duchess would keep him safe and cared for. 

He finished strapping Anakin in the seat and then used the Force to ensure Anakin slept through the entire flight, along with an upgraded shielding over his Force presence. He gave one last smile to Anakin. “I’ll see you again,” he murmured to Anakin as he slipped off his robe and placed it over Anakin. He knew the boy would get cold in space. 

“Does it ever stop?”

Obi-Wan glimpsed over his shoulder. “Beg pardon?”

Satine was leaning against the interior walls of the ship. Her arms were folded in a forlorn pensive. She raised her gaze to Obi-Wan. “The wanting?” she clarified for him, stepping closer to Obi-Wan. “Does it ever go away?”

Obi-Wan knew right away what she was asking. It must be hard for Satine. Her destiny took her on a lonely path of rebuilding a planet. All around, she saw families and friends together living in the peace she sacrificed for them. She must have considered it at some point. Marriage and family. Obi-Wan wondered why she wasn’t married, but didn’t have the courage to ask. Deep down, he knew her reasons.

She and he, it seemed, were always going to suffer from love in order to perform their duty.

Obi-Wan strolled over to Satine. For a minute, they both looked at each other. The unsaid swelling between them in thick waves, clinging on the edge of a cliff that threatened the stability of who they were. Then, unable to hold it any longer, Obi-Wan spoke. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I say let’s not weep for the past. We must be strong to let go of what we cannot have and be patient enough to earn what we deserve. It’s the only way for us to move forward.”

Satine exhaled, but nodded her head solemnly. “You’re right. We cannot change the past.”

With a hurt and longing smile, Obi-Wan passed along the bag he packed to Satine. “I wrote a letter to Anakin, explaining everything,” he said as Satine accepted it. “There’s also some food, hygienic products and a blaster—a stun blaster,” he added when he saw Satine’s scowl. “And when he wakes, tell him… tell him that I say to be good and to listen to you. I’m sure he will. He likes you. Also—make sure he goes to bed by nine and don’t give him any sweets an hour prior either. He’ll just stay up longer and then be cranky all day.

"If he experiences nightmares or Force visions, listen and hold onto him until he falls asleep,” Obi-Wan continued to babble. “I don’t think he will have any Force visions, but in case he does, it’s best you know what to do. Hopefully, I will be back before he has one. That reminds me, when he gets upset, you must remind him to be calm. Or else objects may—”

Satine put a finger over Obi-Wan’s mouth, silencing him. “You have my word that I’ll care for him as if he was one of my own,” she swore. “You have nothing to fear, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan somewhat nodded. Satine would guard Anakin well and he was sure Anakin would enjoy the Mandalore culture and lifestyle. The boy would find it as another grand adventure and another planet to mark off their list. “Right, of course,” he said to Satine. “A little worried, that’s all.”

“If you’re worried, then come,” Satine tried again to offer a flight to him.

Obi-Wan gravely shook his head. He could not. He needed to be the necessary distraction. “I can’t,” he said. “Though, it doesn’t make it any easier to leave him.”

“I suppose not,” Satine agreed. “You know, I am beginning to think Anakin was right about you.”

Obi-Wan’s brows lifted, bemused. “Right about what?”

“That you’re his father.”

“I’m not his—”

“I know,” Satine cut him off. “I know, but… even a blind man can see the bond between you and Anakin.”

“Well, of course I care for him," Obi-Wan said, looking back to Anakin’s sleeping form. "I raised him! Protected him! But, I can’t be his father. I’m not even… I can’t.”

“Jedi attachment?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He kept his mouth pressed into a taut line. Satine rolled her eyes. “It seems the Jedi need to get out more and socialize,” she said. “Love does not have to lead to attachment, Kenobi. I think you and I both know that.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then don’t feel ashamed,” Satine finished and she look back out at the ramp. “If you’re not coming along, I think it is best you hop off. We need to get going.”

She was quite right. They already wasted enough time. Obi-Wan checked on Anakin again, making sure his robe was secured around the sleeping child. He wished Anakin a safe journey and for the Force to be with him. Then, he muttered his promise to come back. 

He returned to Satine, taking her hand and his lips brushed a kiss on her hand. “Safe journey, my dear.”

A fleeting smile crossed her face. “Farewell… Ben,” she finely whispered before planting a small kiss on his cheek. “Be safe.”

Obi-Wan bowed and he exited the ramp, not daring to look back or reach out into the Force. He kept walking until he met with Queen Amidala and Captain Panaka. He stood at their side, watching the ships roar to life. The hanger doors opened, the moonlight pooling into the hanger, the metal floor shimmering. The ships all lifted off their anti-grav and hoovered over the floor. 

One by one, each ship took off, heading to different stars in different directions. Obi-Wan, however, kept his eyes on Satine’s ship. He felt himself be stretched as the ship shot up into the sky. The further the ship, Anakin and Satine got, the more quartered Obi-Wan felt. He knew it was going to be hard, but he wasn’t expecting the pain to join alongside. 

It had to be, he reminded himself. Besides, the separation was only going to be for a few days. He would see Anakin and Satine again. He could feel it in the Force. They would meet again. He only hoped Anakin would forgive him for the trickery. 

Obi-Wan turned to Padmé. “Thank you, again, Your Highness. I am in your debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Padmé reassured him. “I only hope that you and Anakin can live out your lives in peace. Like the Naboo will be able to now that you freed us.”

“We did not do it by ourselves,” Obi-Wan reminded her.

“No,” Padmé immediately agreed. “But you and Anakin _did_ make a big difference.”

Padmé looked on at the ships, a turmoil of restlessness rising from her. “I hope your plan works,” she said with a worried tone. “If you are ever in need of help, you can count on Naboo.”

Obi-Wan dipped his body to a low bow. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said. “I too wish for it all to work in our favor.”

They exited the hanger, returning to the palace to proceed with the next steps. Obi-Wan kept his presence alight. He needed to make sure that if there were any more “disciples” around, they would believe that both he and Anakin were still inside the palace. Obi-Wan headed back to his room. He needed a few things before boarded his own ship to divert Dooku and Qui-Gon away from Anakin. As he strode down the corridor, he heard a faint voice call out his name. 

He stopped and glanced around, spotting a young woman rushing up to him. “Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan cautiously watched the woman approach. “Yes?”

The woman slowed to a stop, panting as she spoke. “You wanted me to inform you when Padawan Muln was awake,” she breathed out in doses. “He’s awake and wants to speak to you if you were still here.”

Garen was awake? Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it. His saddened heart woke again! “Please lead the way,” he said as he briskly followed the Nubian nurse to the healing wards. 

Obi-Wan calculated the time. He had a few minutes to spare with a friend who nearly died. 


	19. In All Betrayals

Garen looked dead.

His skin shined under a thin layer of sweat, the tone as pale as the moon and his hair in clumps and knots gave an impression he was not entirely well. To be awake and look dead meant Garen was in extreme pain. 

The Nubian nurse encouraged Obi-Wan to enter and Obi-Wan tentatively stepped closer to the healing cot. He peered down at Garen. He couldn’t see his friend’s face. Garen was on his stomach, his back exposed where Obi-Wan saw a dark line trail up his spinal cord. Obi-Wan swallowed hard upon the sight. It wasn’t a very kind scar. Deep and unforgiving. Only a Jedi could survive a brutal carving.

“Kenobi?” came the muffled response from the bed.

Obi-Wan moved closer to the head of the bed, squatting down appropriately to speak. There he saw traces of his friend’s face. Garen’s jaw was set, eyes bloodshot and there was an aroma of bacta wafting off of him. Garen’s eyes slid to the far corner in attempt to catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan.

“You came,” Garen sounded surprised.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing.”

Obi-Wan looked strangely on at his friend. “What?”

“I feel nothing,” Garen repeated, his voice stronger than it was before. “The healers… the wound carved up my spinal cord. I’m paralyzed from the waist down.”

There was a choke in the words Garen spoke next. “I won't be a Jedi Knight.”

The guilt of Garen’s injury gutted Obi-Wan. He looked away, pretending that it was giving Garen privacy as a tears trickled out from his glossy eyes. No, rather he turned away because he could not stomach the pain of knowing it was his fault Garen would never become the Jedi Knight he sought to become. He would never become a Jedi Ace pilot. Garen would never be able to engage in a duel or battle in space. His dreams were over. All because the assassin wanted to emotionally destroy Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wiped a hand over his face, dropping it in remorse for his friend. “I’m so sorry, Gar—”

“I don’t need your pity, Kenobi,” Garen interrupted with a spat.

Obi-Wan inhaled through his nose. “Then what do you want from me? Why did you ask me to come here?”

Garen’s eyes rolled again to the corners, straining to see Obi-Wan in the limited view provided. “I know you are planning to leave,” he said, teeth bared down as he spoke. “It was your plan all along anyway. You were never going to let my master and I take you back to the Temple.”

Obi-Wan chose not to confirm Garen’s statement. He let the silence give Garen the answer. Garen darkly chuckled. “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet,” he commented. “I thought when I woke you would be long gone.”

“Couldn’t leave without knowing if you were okay.”

Garen huffed. “Then you will be waiting for a very long time,” he said, aggressively. “I won’t ever be okay. I’m a cripple. I can’t even walk!” He gritted his teeth, restraining the frustration building in the Force. “Blazes! I want to feel! Is that too much to ask?”

No, it was not too much to ask. Obi-Wan sunk into the Force and rested his hand on Garen’s shoulder. With his connection, he channeled a positive energy flow into his old friend, hoping to relieve the building stress that threatened to topple the Jedi serenity Obi-Wan knew took years to construct.

Upon the first flow, Garen eased into Obi-Wan’s presence. He let himself drift in the warmth, soaking in the light, feathered touches of peace and serenity. Something out of reach for Garen to achieve on his own. As he relished the welcoming Light, his eyes enlarged as if he remembered quite clearly that his peace was restlessness. His serenity was chaos. Then the torturous reminder that the feeling was imaginary. He was paralyzed. He could not feel anything.

Garen’s eyes fell into slits. “Stop it.”

Obi-Wan reeled his Force presence away from Garen. “I only wanted to help.”

“You’ve done enough,” Garen said, but not in an unkind manner. Only in a disconsolate sigh. “You did enough.”

Obi-Wan knew a dismissal when given and rose to leave his friend to his dispirited consultation. Garen was right though. There was nothing more Obi-Wan could do for him. He did all that he could and even that didn’t save Garen’s fate.

Garen’s eyes closed and reopened, staring down into an unseen abyss of hardships and fear. He drew an unsteady breath, eyes lingering on the floor with furrowed eyebrows. It was difficult to tell what Garen was thinking, but Obi-Wan imagined that the padawan was experiencing a sudden lapse of faith. His master was dead. He was paralyzed. Every decision and thought he believed was leading him to Knighthood led him to this healing ward. Dreams vanished. Heart broken.

Obi-Wan remembered a person who was once in the same predicament as Garen. Broken beyond repair, dying in agony, but with a straight face, she stayed strong even at the very end. During one of his visits, she said something that resonated with him. And, Obi-Wan felt the need to share it with Garen.

“You are not what happened to yourself. You are what you choose to become,” Obi-Wan recited to his friend. Then he remembered the lightsaber on his belt. He unclipped it, placing it in Garen’s line of sight. It was Master Rhara’s lightsaber. “You are a Jedi, Garen. Only if you wish to be.”

Garen said nothing, but Obi-Wan knew his old friend was tipping over the ledge as he stared at his master’s lightsaber. There was nothing more Obi-Wan could do for Garen now. It was now time for his final farewell. “Good bye, old friend,” Obi-Wan muttered. “May the Force be with you.”

Obi-Wan headed back to the door when Garen called out to him one more time. “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan stopped, surprised to hear Garen call him by his given name.

Garen back rose a little, the dark wound stretching as the man breathed. “You need to run,” he said with a heaviness reserved for surrender. “They’re coming. The Jedi. They’re coming to bring you back.”

Obi-Wan was well aware the Jedi would send a convoy to Naboo the moment they heard of Master Rhara’s death and Garen’s injury. It was expected. Obi-Wan recalculated the plan to accommodate the changes. But hearing Garen’s warning provided a relief Obi-Wan did not know he needed. Garen was trying to save him. Perhaps they are no longer the best of friends they were before, but they both recognize and honor the old bond between them. That was enough.

Garen’s breathing came out in harsh gasps, withstanding a pain somewhere. “And if what that assassin said was true,” he added in deep gravity, “you and Anakin need to run far, far away.”

That was the plan. With that parted warning, Obi-Wan walked away with hopes that one day, he and Garen could return as friends like they were as boys. Until then, they both have their responsibilities to uphold. Garen to the Order and Obi-Wan to the Force.

It was only unfortunate they could not fight on the same side.

* * *

Obi-Wan strode across the palace main hanger. His ship was ready and he had very little time to stay before the Jedi arrived for deportation. He gathered up the necessities. Queen Amidala provided him with enough credits to survive. It was generous that she offered. He had not expected her to. 

He silently walked across the floor. There was no one around. He had the whole hanger to himself. Queen Amidala lived up to her promise. Already he mapped out his destinations that would lead the Sith on a futile trail. First stop was at Christophsis. He was to leave the ship behind and purchase a transport ticket to Coruscant. When the transport ship stopped at midpoint, he would stealthily switch into the cargo of another ship, remaining there and deciding if it was necessary to make another switch or go straight to Mandalore. Either case, he would keep an eye out for any more assassins or bounty hunters. And, of course, for Dooku or Qui-Gon.

He neared his ship, ready to go out on his journey when his name was called. Obi-Wan stopped and looked around, spying Captain Panaka walking up from behind.

“Glad I caught you before you departed,” Captain Panaka said.

Obi-Wan warily looked over the man’s shoulder. “Is there something wrong? Is Queen Amidala—“

“Her Royal Highness does not know I am here,” Captain Panaka interrupted. “I know she wanted to make sure you were left to your own accord, but with everything that has happened, I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak with you privately.”

Obi-Wan looked at the chromo. Time was ticking. “I must really depart,” Obi-Wan said to the captain. “I’ve stayed too long as it is.”

“To visit your Jedi friend in the healing wards,” Captain Panaka said with a nod. “How is he doing?”

“Not too well, but I have faith.”

“He was a brave man,” Captain Panaka offered as condolences.

“He still is,” Obi-Wan remarked.

Captain Panaka solemnly nodded in agreement. “Quite so,” he sighed. “He has Naboo’s gratitude… as do you.”

“I appreciate it, but we didn’t do it for the honors,” Obi-Wan said, adjusting his robe. “Naboo needed help. So we offered. That’s all.”

“Yet without you or Anakin, Naboo would be in the hands of the Trade Federation.”

“I assure you, Captain, that the Naboo would have freed herself without our assistance.”

Captain Panaka’s face tightened and he groaned in exasperation. “Take the compliment, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan grew tired of the compliments. He never handled them very well and to be quite honest, he and Anakin only played one role in Naboo’s freedom. If it wasn’t for Queen Amidala’s hope and determination, then they wouldn’t have returned to Naboo. If it wasn’t for Master Rhara’s and Garen’s sacrifice, the assassin could have achieved its main goal. If it wasn’t for the handmaidens who took turns portraying Queen Amidala, the Queen would have been in more danger than ever.

It wasn’t just Anakin and Obi-Wan who saved the day. It was everyone involved as well. And it annoyed Obi-Wan that only he and Anakin were getting credit. Even if they destroyed the control ship and the assassin. If it wasn’t for others, he and Anakin would not have performed those suppose ‘miracles’.

But, Obi-Wan restrained his displeasure and accepted the compliment with a tiny tilt of his head and gracefully said, “Thank you.”

Captain Panaka approved. “Good. Now, I also want to thank you.”

“For what?” Didn’t the captain thank him enough?

“For keeping your promise,” Captain Panaka clarified. “The guards told me what you did in the throne room. How you stepped in front of the Queen to protect her.”

Obi-Wan remembered. Nute Gunray was going to torture her. “As I said, I would lay my life down for her. I was not lying about that.”

“But you did lie about being Jedi.”

“Not exactly,” Obi-Wan replied and then reminded the captain, “I simply never corrected you. You only assumed based off my silence.”

Captain Panaka waved his hand up to dismiss the argument, brushing it aside for a different topic. “I didn’t come to antagonize you,” he said, briskly. “I only stopped be to personally thank you and to say that it was an honor to fight alongside you.”

The captain stuck out his hand. A peace offering. The hostility from the lies and mystery long deserted and only gracious acceptance was given. The captain’s cold face melted lines into the man, giving him a spark of life outside his confides of a soldier. He was a man who cared and still performed his duty above all else.

Obi-Wan understood that. He took the captain’s hands with a strong, assuring strength to absolve them of the tension they shared since the beginning.

“You are a good soldier, Captain,” Obi-Wan said as he unhook his hand from the captain’s grasp. “And a good man. Then Queen and Naboo will be well cared for in your hands.”

Captain Panaka’s pride swelled in his chest, puffed out in immense honor. “It will be,” he guaranteed.

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “Then there is no reason for me to be here,” he said with a funny, small smile. “May the Force be with you.”

He moved away from the captain, heading to board his ship. He placed his bag on the shelf and moved to the cockpit to bring up the ramp. It was time to go. He needed to leave before the Jedi or Sith capture him.

The ramp closed with a snapped hiss. The control board lit up. The whirling of the engines wound up. The anti-grav unlocked and the ship rumbled to go. Obi-Wan inhaled deeply.

Ready to get out of here.

He pulled the lever down.

The croaking of machinery and a pathetic whimper of a failing start choked the engines before it died.

A red light flared up.

Obi-Wan stared at the flashing red light. He had no idea what it meant. He readjusted the controls, punching in a different code. He tried again. He pulled the lever. The choking sound grew louder and then hissed to silence.

The red light was still flashing.

“This would happen to me,” Obi-Wan muttered, tinkering with the control panel again. “Of all the times to occur, it’s when Anakin is not around to help.”

He investigated the flashing light and concluded that something on the outside was loose. Obi-Wan shut down the ship and lowered the ramp. He was going to need another ship. One that wasn’t broken.

He snatched his bag and hurried down the ramp to encounter two yellow, lightsaber pikes blocking his path.

Obi-Wan halted.

Beyond the pikes stood a calm and smug Jedi Shadow—Sifo-Dyas.

The Jedi Shadow tapped his fingers on the hilt of his lightsaber. His hard gaze went from Obi-Wan to the ship and then back to him. Then, the curl of a smile appeared. “Engine problems?” the Jedi Shadow deduced. “Need a lift?”

Before he knew it, he found Force-negate binders around his wrists and being man-handled by the Temple guards, each one holding his triceps uncomfortably tight. It was clear they had no intentions of letting him go.

Obi-Wan surrendered, blasting himself for his failure. Sifo-Dyas turned away and walked down the long hanger. The Temple guards dragged a consent Obi-Wan down the ramp to follow the Jedi Shadow’s lead.

As they exited the hanger and moved down the corridor, it was then Obi-Wan spotted Captain Panaka standing directly outside the hanger doors. He lifted his head, repentant eyes gazing back at Obi-Wan being carried out of the hanger by Temple guards. As Jedi Shadow passed, he inclined his head toward the captain in gratitude.

It clicked.

All the pieces came together and Obi-Wan saw the big picture. It was quite clear that the captain warned the Jedi of Queen Amidala’s plans to help him escape. The captain disabled his ship and held him back to ensure the Jedi would arrive in time to capture him. Everything pre-arranged and calculated to ensure a secured interception.

Betrayed! All the hard feelings Captain Panaka held did not go away from a simple handshake. His praise and gratitude were nothing, but false sincerities and sentiments. There was no forgiveness or honor. Just pettiness and revenge.

As Obi-Wan walked past the now stoic captain, he only glared. He did not say a word to the captain. There were no words needed.

Obi-Wan got the message loud and clear.

* * *

Bant busied herself with restocking the healing cabinets with appropriate items and taking inventory of the necessities. It was her punishment for breaking the rules to see Obi-Wan. While it was a mind-numbing task, she found herself happy to do it if it meant she saw Obi-Wan.

He was not exactly the boy she remembered. The Obi-Wan in the Halls of Healing was someone jaded and desperate, desolated and cynical, caring and yet, battle-hardened. He was quite the combination of contradictions and hyperboles. The boyish looks were gone. His face less full and more sculptured of a man reaching his apex. Blue eyes serious rather than that of a dreamer. And, he was more alerted of his surroundings. Bant noticed right away when she visited him. He looked at everyone and everything by threat level. Bant wondered if Obi-Wan knew he acted in such fashion or was it now embedded too deeply that it was more of an unconscious action.

Despite these changes, Bant couldn’t help but still feel her old friend in the presence of the Force. Obi-Wan might have physically and behaviorally changed, but his Force presence stayed the same. It was bright and bursting with Light. That was how she knew her Obi-Wan wasn’t gone. He was there, behind that haunting visage. Her little Obi was still there.

She finished taking inventory and reported back to Vokara Che. “All done, Master,” she said, passing the records to her.

Vokara Che reviewed the list. “Go to the Quartermaster and acquire three sets of blankets.”

Bant obliged and bowed out of respect to the chief healer. She quietly headed to the quartermaster office. She ran into Siri on her way, passing a hello to the padawan. Siri Tachi, blonde beauty and tomboy young woman, was an old friend of Bant’s and an acquaintance of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Bant, it is good to see you,” Siri said in return. “How is everything?”

“Good with all things considering,” Bant replied. She felt no need to clarify what she meant. Everyone knew already. Even the Jedi who were not at the Temple knew of Obi-Wan’s captured.

Siri gave a small shake of her head. “So the rumors are true,” she muttered, crossly. “Did you see him?”

Bant nodded. “I did.”

Siri’s face scrunched in scorn. “How is the traitor?”

Bant shivered at the name-calling. She didn’t approve of the title most Jedi gave to her friend. “He’s doing as well as expected,” she said. “Still Obi-Wan.”

Siri shrugged in response. “I wouldn’t know,” she replied, her mouth downturned as she spoke. “I must be return to Master Gallia. She’s expecting me.”

Bant and Siri exchange goodbyes and Bant walked away feeling that she might be the only person who still believed there was good in Obi-Wan. Her own master would tell her that her feelings and attachment to her old friend were blinding her from reality. Yet, Bant was positive that what she saw—no, what she _felt_ —was not darkness, but a bright light abounding in Obi-Wan’s Force presence. It wasn’t like Anakin’s supernova presence, but it was close enough to the point that Bant was positive that Obi-Wan was still the Obi-Wan she knew as a child.

She arrived at the quartermaster’s office and ordered three sets of blankets as instructed by Vokara Che. The quartermaster, Master Ricard, was an elderly man with a bald head and a permanent frown. He grumbled over the order and headed beyond the doors to obtain the needed blankets. He was never fond of giving anything away from the warehouse unless absolute necessary, always denying Jedi lots of things that were requested. Luckily, he is not allowed to question a healer’s orders. Well, not to the extreme.

Bant waited. She stood at the counter and let her mind wander until it was startled out by a pat on her shoulder. She flinched, quite surprised she didn’t feel a new presence enter the vicinity. She turned on her heels to see Master Qui-Gon Jinn standing beside her.

He chuckled lightly at her shock. “I’m sorry, Padawan Eerin,” he said, sliding his hand off her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bant blushed and gazed down, embarrassed how she didn’t recognize another Force presence. “My mind was elsewhere,” she said and she lifted her chin up to look up at the tall Jedi. “How are you doing, Master Jinn?”

The humor in his eyes dimmed and the small smile weakened. “As well as expected,” he said, tired. “I’m sure you understand.”

Bant did. She sighed and rested her forearms on the counter. “Did you get the chance to see him, Master Jinn?”

“I did, but only for a little and he was hardly doing well,” Qui-Gon answered, frustrated by the memory. “I told them that keeping him in those detention cells was killing him. To be cut off from the Force… it’s barbaric!”

Bant couldn’t agree anymore. It’s as bad as cutting off a person’s leg or arm, but there was no replacement for the Force. No prosthetics for the Force. Once it is gone, it’s gone. Left with an open wound that would never heal.

Not that Bant had any experience, but that was what she learned from her healing lessons with Vokara Che. The Force had no replacements.

“Obi-Wan is strong though,” Bant said to reassure the Jedi Master. “He didn’t completely deteriorate while in captivity.”

“No, he did not,” Qui-Gon agreed with a proud smile boasting on his aging face. “May I assume you visited him as well?”

“I did,” Bant answered. “Only for a little bit at the Halls of Healing.”

“Did he say anything?”

Bant shook her head. “Mostly concerned with Anakin… the boy,” she added to clarify, but Qui-Gon was well aware who Anakin was. “Asked me to keep a promise.”

“What promise?”

“If something happened to him to keep Anakin safe.”

Qui-Gon hummed in understanding. “Makes sense. He is well attached to Anakin,” he admitted. “Even when they first met, Obi-Wan wouldn’t let Anakin out of his sight. Had to always hold him and care for him. I didn’t think of anything at first, but now…” Qui-Gon let his words sink between them for a long minute. “It is what it is. I’m sure you know they are both gone now.”

Bant nodded. “I said goodbye to them both this morning.”

Qui-Gon perked up, surprise etched into his old and tired face. “You did?”

Bant nodded again. “I was with Anakin that morning when Obi-Wan came to collect him. Off to Naboo. Off on another adventure,” she smiled at the idea. Obi-Wan did love adventures as a youngling. “Did you not get the chance to say goodbye?”

Qui-Gon gravely shook his head. “No… I wasn’t even told until they were long gone,” he murmured, hurt. “I wished I did though.”

Bant felt sorry for the Jedi Master. He looked downtrodden the way he gazed aimlessly in front of him, his sad thoughts occupying his full attention. It had to be hard to watch someone you raised and cared for despise you enough to run away.  To even fear you! Bant was surprised that Qui-Gon hadn’t managed to break down. After losing Xanatos to the Dark Side, Master Tahl to the Force and Obi-Wan… it must be heart-breaking to lose everything that one holds dear.

Hesitantly, Bant wrapped her hand around Qui-Gon’s. The Jedi Master flickered up to Bant, surprised by the gentle comfort. Bant offered a tiny condolence in the form of a small smile and, “There’s good in him, Master Jinn,” she reassured him. “I saw it! He’ll come back to us.”

Whatever emotion Master Jinn had left vanished underneath an unreadable expression. He reverted back to his Master Jedi composure. He must have realized that his emotional leakage was inappropriate. As Jedi Knights, such strong feelings were not approved.

Qui-Gon slid his hand out of Bant’s and gave her one pat on her shoulder in appreciation. “I’m happy to know that there are others in the Order who still have faith in him,” he said in a tiny smile. “It’s nice to know.”

“Of course,” Bant said brightly. “Obi-Wan is my friend. I believe in him.”

“As do I,” Qui-Gon said though there was some tentativeness in his words. He looked away, eyes searching for assistance. “Where is Master Ricard?”

Bant turned to the doors. “He’s collecting my order,” she said. “The Halls of Healing is low on blankets.”

“Disaster!” Qui-Gon said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m sure Vokara Che is stressed out.”

Her smile widened. Looking at Qui-Gon, she didn’t see how Obi-Wan could fear the man. There wasn’t an ounce of darkness inside the Jedi Master. Pain? Yes. But anger and hatred was nonexistent. Then again, it was hard to get a good read on the Jedi Master. After Obi-Wan ran away, he had closed off his emotions. According to other masters, the loss of Obi-Wan was too painful for Qui-Gon. He kept mostly to himself and he swore off all padawans again. Nothing could change his opinion on that matter. He lost too much to bring himself to be open like used to.

Despite it all, there was still a sliver of _something_ behind Qui-Gon’s eyes.

Bant couldn’t pinpoint it though. “If I may ask, Master,” she began. “What brings you here?”

“I have a mission,” Qui-Gon answered, apparently not secretive like most of his missions, “which requires a refill of medical supplies.”

Qui-Gon went on a lot of missions. Some say it was to dull the pain or to help him cope that he no longer had a padawan. He needed to be away so that he didn’t see other Jedi Masters with their padawans. Bant imagined he took the new mission to get away from losing Obi-Wan all over again.

“Where does this mission lead you to?” Bant questioned.

Qui-Gon scratched his chin. “To Geonosis,” he answered. “The Shadows have a lead on the assassin who attacked the Queen of Naboo and it points to that planet. I am to investigate.”

The assassin! Obi-Wan didn’t mentioned an assassin. “There’s an assassin?” 

Qui-Gon paused. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. “I believe I may have spoken more than necessary,” he said to Bant. “Do not worry yourself, Bant. It’s only a possible lead.”

“But Obi-Wan is with the Queen—”

Qui-Gon lifted a hand, effectively silencing Bant. “It’s not your concern,” he stated and he meant it. There was a fire burning in those blue irises, threatening devour. “Now—you heard nothing.”

A shiver lined Bant’s spine like frost on Alderaan’s mountains. There was shift. A change of wind in the atmosphere that poked Bant into taking a step back from Qui-Gon. She looked closer, but the icy feeling melted as quickly as it came. Almost like it was never there.

Realizing Qui-Gon was waiting for a response, Bant dropped her chin and murmured. “Yes, Master.” She heard nothing. There was nothing to repeat.

“Good,” was all Qui-Gon muttered.

Before Bant could wonder at the sudden change, Master Ricard returned with the three sets of blankets. “There you go, padawan,” he said, passing the set of blankets off to her. “These blankets should last a lifetime. So, I should not see another order.”

Bant took the blankets and thanked Master Ricard. Handling the blankets, she turned to Master Jinn with a respective bow required of a padawan to a master. “It was good to speak with you, Master,” she said. “May the Force be with you.”

“And also with you,” Qui-Gon repeated, but he wasn’t looking at her when he spoke. His full attention was to Master Ricard. His hands fell on top of the counter, spreading as he took the full attention of the quartermaster. “Master Ricard—I am in need of a few supplies.”

Master Ricard grunted. “Isn’t everyone when they come to see me?”

Bant quietly and hurriedly exited the office. A strange sensation crawled up Bant’s insides. A drumming instinct that she had stumbled upon. Perhaps she was mistaken. Qui-Gon’s mission sounded stressful. Hunting down an assassin who is gunning for the Queen—who Obi-Wan is currently serving—would not be an easy and unemotional task. It must have been fear she sensed from the Jedi Master. Fear that the assassin may hurt Obi-Wan.

It had to be that. It had to be.

It was, Bant decided as she arrived at the Halls of Healing, placing the blankets on the respective healing cots. Qui-Gon’s fear of failing to stop the assassin was the reason behind the shift.

She convinced herself well as she tucked the blankets in the cots. But, the Force wrought with a deadly warning that refused to budge. Something bad was going to happen and many of the Jedi turned blind to it.

* * *

Obi-Wan sat in his cell. He did not dare look up at Master Sifo-Dyas’ smug face. He heard the Jedi Shadow’s voice rummaging through his mind, but Obi-Wan felt no need to piece the words together. He did not care for whatever Master Sifo-Dyas had to say.

If he went back to the Temple, the Jedi Council may order a mind healing. Or something much worse. And Master Yoda wouldn’t be able to stop them. Not if the majority agreed.

He slipped out a small sigh, flexing his fingers to simply _do_ something. He needed something to take his mind off the fact that he failed in part of his mission. Qui-Gon and Dooku would be pleased to have him back in the Jedi Order. They could continue their process of dismantling him of any credit or sanity.

Obi-Wan was not looking forward to it.

“Kenobi, am I boring you?”

Obi-Wan raised his head. Master Sifo-Dyas looked directly back at him, behind the bars and blue, Force shield. He didn’t know what the Jedi Shadow was talking before and he didn’t feel the need to request a repeated lecture.

Instead, he shrugged in response to the Jedi’s question. “Well, I certainly don’t find you entertaining.”

Master Sifo-Dyas’ eyes dropped to slits. “I would rein in that cheek, Kenobi,” came the Jedi’s portentous reply. “Yours and the Queen’s attempt to undermine the Jedi authority will result in a far stricter punishment from the Council.”

“I have no doubt.”

Master Sifo-Dyas studied him. He looked through the blue haze with a disconcerting eye, measuring Obi-Wan from where he sat. “You don’t express any fear.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Why? Were you expecting me to?” he inquired. There was no response from the Jedi. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Master Sifo-Dyas.”

“You didn’t disappoint,” Master Sifo-Dyas said, tucking his hands behind his back. “I’m merely impressed by your will. Even in great distress, you act tranquil.”

“Would you like me to start screaming and pleading?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Master Sifo-Dyas said, turning to pace in front of the cell. “The Council would like me to talk to you about the assassin you confronted in Naboo.”

Obi-Wan arched a brow. “The assassin I killed, you mean.”

“Yes,” Master Sifo-Dyas said, each step slow and precise. He commanded the attention and he spoke with authority that demanded an audience. A specific audience. “I spoke to Garen a little. He believed the assassin’s target was you.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms around his waist, watching the Jedi Shadow prowl around his cell. “His intentions were to kill the Queen and anyone who got in his way.”

“The assassin spoke to you.”

It wasn’t a question. Either Garen told Master Sifo-Dyas of the assassin’s words or he watched the holo-video of the fight. In any case, it was pointless to deny it. “We exchanged words.”

“What did he say?”

“The usual.”

Master Sifo-Dyas stopped and gave Obi-Wan a prominent stare down. “I wasn’t aware you speak on a regular basis with assassins, Kenobi,” he returned, a coldness in his words that would have scared any padawan. But not Obi-Wan. He lived under two Siths for three years. There was nothing Master Sifo-Dyas could say or do that would frightened Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan replied with a wry smirk. “Not as much as you do, I assure you,” he said, which earned him a piercing flare of anger from the Shadow. “In fact, I believe he’s only my fifth assassin I ever confronted in my life. And they all tend to say the same thing.”

Master Sifo-Dyas turned sharply to face him. “And what _exactly_ is it that he said?”

“Simple threats and promises of death and defeat,” Obi-Wan answered, flippantly. “Oh—and the bragging. I cannot forget that important detail.”

“Bragging?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, he was quite pleased to inform me that he was going to become the true apprentice to the Sith Lords, though—” Obi-Wan pensively rubbed his scruffy jawline. “I don’t think that will happen now.”

Master Sifo-Dyas betrayed no reaction to the reveal. Obi-Wan didn’t expect him to. As a Shadow, he was well trained in hiding and restraining any emotional reaction to news. The only thing he did was ask a new question. “Can Garen confirm this?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He was there, but I don’t know if he heard anything. Did he not say?”

“Padawan Muln is unconscious per instruction by a Jedi Healer,” Master Sifo-Dyas answered. “We’ll get more information from him later. For now, I am only interrogating you.”

“I’m honored,” Obi-Wan deadpanned. “Are there any more questions you wish for me to answer? Or is the interview over?”

“It’s only the beginning,” Master Sifo-Dyas said with a little nasty grin. “May as well get comfortable Kenobi. You have a long—”

The ship rocked, throwing Master Sifo-Dyas off his feet and Obi-Wan to slide down the metal bench. He gripped the edges, holding himself steady as Master Sifo-Dyas pulled himself back up, looking directly at the door. There was a whine of protesting echoing the ship’s corridor. Another violent shake disrupted the ship and Master Sifo-Dyas and Obi-Wan were holding on tight as to know start flying around the room.

There was a shrieking warning. The systems blaring. Were they being attacked?

Master Sifo-Dyas pulled out his comlink and shouted. “What’s happening?”

A faint and distanced voice echoed. “We are caught in by another ship, sir!”

Another ship? Pirates? Or perhaps—

Obi-Wan went pale. It was not pirates. He yelled to Master Sifo-Dyas. “Master! We need to get off this ship now! Abandon it!”

Master Sifo-Dyas furrowed his eyes at him. “Quiet Kenobi!” he snipped. “I need to sort out this mess.”

“Master! It’s a trap. You’ve been betrayed—”

“Shut it, Kenobi. Not another word.”

Before Master Sifo-Dyas even reached the door, the blasts of shooting fire erupted on the other side of the walls. Screams, cries and commands reverberated the walls in equal horror. The stench of blaster fire filled the air and Obi-Wan gagged. It was too late. He felt death weighing in the Force.

Master Sifo-Dyas sensed it as well. He pulled out his lightsaber, igniting the green blade. He crouched in position to fight. Obi-Wan stared wildly around, looking for any sign of weakness in the Force field to escape and assist. He found none.

“Master! Free me!” Obi-Wan pleaded with the Jedi Shadow. “I can help!”

Master Sifo-Dyas flickered a glance in his direction, a balancing of choices demonstrating in his eyes as he considered the idea. But, his thoughts and concentration were interrupted by the sound of the door being hammered by blaster fire.

Obi-Wan witnessed the door’s strength weakening. Any moment, it would fall down and the siege would roll into the cells. Obi-Wan called for Master Sifo-Dyas again. “Master—please! Listen to me! You need my help!”

Just then, the door blasted apart. Smoke rising, distorting their vision. Obi-Wan peered out and spotted what appeared to be a battle droid marching into the narrow corridor. There was no sound at first. Nothing but the scrapes of metal of droids marching into the room and the hum of a lightsaber.

Then, in seconds, explosion erupted and blaster fire passed Obi-Wan’s cell. It was fortunate that a Force field covered him. The stray blaster fire ricocheted off the blue wall and into a nearby droid or the opposite wall.

While Obi-Wan watched the fight in the safety of his cell, he had to witness Master Sifo-Dyas battle the droids alone. His lightsaber spun miraculously, absorbing all the blaster fire aimed at him. He dodged the droids and sliced off their heads with a clean sweep of his blade. It was a marvelous fight to watch. It was almost as if the Jedi Shadow was dancing rather than fighting. Still, it didn’t make Obi-Wan any less worried. A Jedi Master could only fight for so longer before their stamina ran out.

Obi-Wan looked for the panel that controlled his Force shield. If he could get the droids to blast it and free himself, he could assist Master Sifo-Dyas in his fight against the droids. And, if they were blessed enough, hop into one of the escape pods. As of now, though, neither of them were blessed.

Master Sifo-Dyas was growing tired. Droids laid dead at his feet, but more kept coming. Never-ending. And Obi-Wan couldn’t find the panel that unlocked his cell. It wasn’t looking good for either of them.

Master Sifo-Dyas cut down a droid, swinging his lightsaber to bring on more, but the droids stopped marching and firing. They parted, leaving room for another person to enter and take center stage.

Obi-Wan didn’t like the feeling building in his stomach. “Master,” he whispered urgently. “Unlock the Force field.”

The Jedi Shadow slid his eyes from the door to Obi-Wan. He understood that he was immensely outnumbered. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small device and prepared to hit the red button when a long shadow fell in front of him.

Both Obi-Wan and the Jedi Shadow looked up to see a woman stand in the doorway. The same woman Obi-Wan fought on Tatooine.

Her pale skin was clear and flawless with skillful tattoos arrayed on each side of her clean-shaved head. She sparkled in some kind of inner, wild radiance. She wore a floor-length cloak, it swayed by her feet as she descended on them.

“Thank you boys,” she purred at the droids, “for saving the best for last.”

Master Sifo-Dyas repositioned himself. A stance of defense. “You have attacked a Jedi shuttle,” he said to the woman. “You have broken—”

The woman mockingly yawned. “You bore me, Jedi,” she said, looking at Master Sifo-Dyas as if he was some kind of lower animal. “As you can see, I don’t play by your rules.”

She reached to her belt, pulling out two curved lightsabers. The same ones Obi-Wan described to the Council. She had yet to register Obi-Wan’s presence. Either she didn’t care for him or she would get to him later seeing as he was trapped in his cell. Whichever it was, Obi-Wan didn’t like it.

When she lit up the lightsabers, the red light illuminated the dark corridor into a red haze. Master Sifo-Dyas realized the dire situation he was in. He growled at the woman. “Sith!”

The woman chuckled. “You flatter me,” she sneered. She undid her cloak, letting it fall to her feet, revealing her well-trimmed body. “But I will accept the title. After all, I always wanted to kill a Jedi.”

She lunged, blades twirling to her whims as she slashed at Master Sifo-Dyas. The Jedi Shadow followed every attack, parrying and blocking the red blades with his single green blade. The fight had substance. It was well formed, blurs of light swirling and slashing the air. Master Sifo-Dyas pressed the attack. The woman intercepted and turned the tide against him, pushing him back.

There was no elegance in this attack. Like the assassin from Naboo, it was violent and ferocious. No breaks and no mercy. In any case, either the assassin or Master Sifo-Dyas was going to die before him. Obi-Wan only hoped it was former.

He felt like he was back on Naboo again. Trapped behind the shield, watching helpless as an assassin struck at a Jedi. While Master Sifo-Dyas was no friend, Obi-Wan didn’t want to see him hurt. He watched the fight, unbalanced by the thoughts of being helpless. He needed to do something. Anything to help!

Yet, there was nothing. Master Sifo-Dyas held the remote to free him of the cells and Obi-Wan had no weapon to either fight or defend.

Slowly, the fight grew bigger. The woman growled and grunted as Master Sifo-Dyas perfectly blocked each attempt. She snarled as she struck her lightsabers at Master Sifo-Dyas’s neck, hoping to decapitate him. The Jedi Shadow brought his blade up and stopped the attempt.

Obi-Wan’s heart clenched at the intensity of the showdown. He rocked on his feet, muttering encouragements to Master Sifo-Dyas. He needed Master Sifo-Dyas to survive the duel.

The assassin grew angrier by the minute. Unhinged by her lack of striking the Jedi Shadow down. She had crossed her blades at him and he successfully blocked every single one. As she drew her blade down to swipe at his legs, Master Sifo-Dyas dropped his blade to block. It was growing tedious. The fight drew out longer and its fun was diminishing. She wanted to end it.

Obi-Wan sensed the dread lingering in the air. Time was ticking. One of them was about to die.

“No… please no,” Obi-Wan muttered. He cannot take another death. Not over him.

Master Sifo-Dyas spun and elbowed the woman in the face, knocking her down. Her blades hissed off, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Obi-Wan ran to the end of his cell, watching in suspenseful anticipation for the battle to come to an end.

Master Sifo-Dyas, panting, spun the lightsaber and was ready to order her surrender when the woman snarled. She bared her teeth and ripped out a roar. She threw out her hands and Master Sifo-Dyas went flying over the carnage of droids.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched. “Master!”

The woman leapt to her feet with grace, storming over to where the Jedi Shadow laid, stunned. Obi-Wan’s heart hammered at the sight of the red blade coming to life.

“No… no… no,” Obi-Wan muttered underneath his breath. He charged at the Force shield, trying to break it down, but only being shocked back. “NO!”

The woman plunged her blade into Master Sifo-Dyas’ chest. The Jedi Shadow’s eyes enlarged, struck by an immense pain before shadowed by a ghostly vision of death. His mouth crumbled. Fingers fidgeting. Eyes transfixed at the woman in shock, horror and agony.

Then, the lightsaber in his hand rolled out of his limped hand.

Obi-Wan said nothing. There was no biting anger or swelling hatred. Only a frozen reality of his own situation. Master Sifo-Dyas was dead. Battle droids were stationed at the doors and the assassin stood over the dead Jedi in savaged victory. There was no victory here. Only murder and destruction. All hope fleeting and gone.

She scooped up the lightsaber, curling her spidery fingers on the hilt. “It’s still warm,” she sneered before she clipped it to her belt as a trophy.

The woman turned back, strutting as her eyes fixated on Obi-Wan with burning delight. She took her stand directly in front of him with a predatory smile on her dark lips. “Kenobi,” she said, sweetly like a lover. “How I missed you.”

Obi-Wan rebuffed her indulgence. “I cannot say the same.”

The woman examined the shield, her expressionless, flat eyes circling above. She waved her hand toward Master Sifo-Dyas’s body. The remote flew to her hand. She stroke the remote, her gaze on Obi-Wan as she prowled in front of his cage.

“You have nothing to fear Kenobi,” the woman mocked in derision. “After all—this _is_ a rescue.”

That was what Obi-Wan was afraid of. The rescue was imprisonment. He slowly backed away from the shields, thinking fast. Once she deactivated the shields, he only had a limited time to make his move. As to what he was going to do, he had no idea. He had no weapons. Nothing but the Force.

Meanwhile, she had the Force, three lightsabers and a platoon of battle droids at her command. The fight—if there was going to be a fight—was not in his favor.

The woman traced her bony finger around the red button. “While I would love nothing more than to finish our fight we started on Tatooine,” she said, an acidic tone replacing her more sly and flirty speech. “My masters have ordered me to bring you alive.”

Of course they did. They wanted to torture him themselves. “Very merciful of them.”

The woman growled at his dismissive snide. “You should be grateful that your life is even spared!” she shrieked. “You’re nothing. Only a false Jedi with no extraordinary power.”

Obi-Wan would have been insulted if he held any vanity. Rather, he was too preoccupied figuring out how to escape. Instead of engaging, he merely shrugged in response. “That is your opinion.”

That dismissive gestured rattled her. “Perhaps a little demonstration is necessary then?”

She punched the red button. The Force fields vanished, leaving Obi-Wan fully exposed. The cell’s bars still kept him trapped and the woman hadn’t yet opened the door.

Her predatory smile remained on her face. The fury lighting her eyes. She gestured the battel droids. Metal rustled as the droids turned in formation, gun raised and aimed at him. Were they going to shoot him dead? He thought Dooku and Qui-Gon wanted him alive?

Obi-Wan was ready for death. Anakin was safe and out of the way, with people Obi-Wan trusted and loved. And, if he died in the cell, he wouldn’t be used as a lure for Anakin. All in all, death was much preferable than being captured. Better to be dead than alive.

It didn’t take long at all.

The second the blasters were raised, the droids fired upon him.

Except, it wasn’t plasma energy that punctured his flesh. The shots were set for stun.

His whole body rippled upon impact, shocking him into a mirage of unconscious and unconscious state. He didn’t remember falling, but the hard surface pressed against the side of his face told him he was down. A faded screech of the cell doors opening and pattering footsteps could be heard. His vision blurred, dark blotches overcoming him.

He felt a brush of cold air against his cheek and faint cackling in his ear, “You’re all mine, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Then, a touch of cold kissed his temple before he succumbed to full unconsciousness.


	20. Abandonment Issues

Anakin awoke in the comforts of a large bed and fine sheets. They were cool and smooth against his skin and Anakin snuggled close to it with a smile on his face. His eyes fluttered, the world around him coming together.

Morning arrived and that meant he could have breakfast on the terrace with Padmé and Obi-Wan, overlooking the waterfalls.He grinned at the prospect and stretched his arms up over his head. He was excited to start the day! He twisted in his bed, still stretching as he reached over to nudge Obi-Wan awake.

He only felt air.

Anakin flipped over and found the other side of his bed empty and made as if no one slept there last night. He lifted his head up from the pillow, his sleepy eyes distorted his vision. Bit by bit, he gained clarity until, like a bolt of lightning, everything became real. He sat up. His eyes surveyed the room, taking in the drastic different settings. The room he awakened to was open, constructed into a single room. Dark grey-blue walls and beige carpet contrasted the elegance and marble structure of the Naboo palace. This room held a more modern appeal. On the other side of the room were two sofa-couches, a holo-screen for entertainment purposes and a round table that provided only two chairs. Above him was a single chandelier, its crystals hanging like icicles.

This was not the room he fell asleep to last night.

He suspiciously glanced around the room. “Obi-Wan?” Anakin called, his voice croaking from lack of use. “Obi-Wan? Are you here?”

No response. 

Anakin searched through the Force, but found nothing. He yanked on their Force bond. Obi-Wan hated when Anakin yanked, but it always got Obi-Wan’s attention rather quickly.

It didn’t this time. He got no response. Nothing. Only dead silence.

A chill ran up his spine. It’s cold touch sliding over his skin and encasing him in ice. He stealthily slid off the bed. Feet cushioned by the soft carpet, Anakin stalked across the room in high alert. He kept his senses wide opened, clinging to the hope that he would find Obi-Wan. He moved to the window, peaking out and to his astonishment, he saw not the luscious green landscape of Naboo. Instead, he saw spiraling, high-technology skyscrapers constructed out of permacrete, beskar iron and transparisteel, trapped inside a large ceiling dome.

Anakin gaped at the sight, puzzled. “Where am I?”

He backed away from the window. Strange place. Strange room. And, no Obi-Wan. It only meant one thing.

He was kidnapped.

Anakin crossed the room to the door. He twisted the knob and opened a crack. Peering out, he saw a long corridor decorated in murals depicting what Anakin imagined was city’s history. He checked down both sides. Not a single person patrolled the corridor. That was fortunate for him.  

Cautiously, Anakin stepped out of the room and slinked down the corridor, hugging close to the walls. If he found a hanger, he could commandeer a ship and flee. It was his only chance to escape this imprisonment. He followed the corridor, reaching for a new door. He glanced behind him to ensure he wasn’t being followed. He was all alone.

Anakin hesitated. Maybe it was a trap? After all, no one would leave him alone unless they truly believed he could not escape. Was it a ploy? Were they testing him?

He delved into the Force, searching for an answer. He wished Obi-Wan was with him. He would know what to do and what was happening. Instinctively, Anakin reached through the bond again and tugged. Still no response. The emptiness on the other side curdled Anakin’s stomach and sent another shiver down his spine. Where was Obi-Wan? Why was he not answering?

Realizing he couldn’t simply stay put, Anakin wretched the door opened and stepped through. He hurried down the corridor, passing columns, murals and windows without any glances. He needed a ship. He needed to escape and find Obi-Wan. He turned down another corridor, surprised to find that there was still no one around to catch him in the act of escaping. Again, he felt he was walking into a trap.

He slipped between two pillars, surveying the layout to decide his next direction when one of the side doors opened. A man with a blonde goatee and dressed in a heavy white robe strode out, flanked by two guards. The man came to a dead halt upon spying Anakin huddled between two pillars.

Anakin stared at the man.

The man stared right back.

Both not moving and not saying a word.

Then, the man release a long sigh of relief. “There you are!” he stated. “You had me worried. You weren’t in your room—”

Anakin blasted out of his hiding spot. He sprinted down the corridor, not looking back as the man shouted after him. His sleuthing was over. He was caught and time clocked down for him. He pumped his arms, calling on the Force to accelerate his speed. He whipped down the corridor, sliding on the tile flooring as he rushed for the next pair of double doors, praying that it was either an exit or a hanger.

“Stop him!” came a scream far behind him.

Suddenly, several guards came out of nowhere, surrounding him with raised staffs. Anakin slid to a halt. Quick breaths, he looked side to side, sizing up each guard to find the weakness. Obi-Wan told him to look for every weak point and used it against the opponent. At the moment, it seemed Anakin was out-numbered and completely unarmed.

There was no escape.

The guards parted and the man Anakin ran into earlier came bustling down the corridor. He too was out of breath by the time he got to the circle. Panting, he stared down at Anakin, bewildered. “You’re a quick devil!” he said between breaths. “Why did you go running off like that?”

Anakin opted to say nothing.

The man shrugged, giving up on trying to make conversation. “Not much of a talker, are you?” he commented. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk. I’m Almec. The Prime Minister. Let me escort you to our leader.”

Anakin realized he had no choice. With all the guards and their weapons, he would have to follow. He tugged again on the Force bond, pleading with Obi-Wan to answer. There was still no sign coming from the other end.

Obi-Wan wasn’t dead. Anakin knew. Somehow, he _knew_ Obi-Wan wasn’t dead. Despite the lack of response and the emptiness feeling from the other end, Anakin instinctively knew Obi-Wan wasn’t dead. That made the situation worse. If Obi-Wan wasn’t dead, then why wasn’t he responding to Anakin?

Almec and a handful of guards led Anakin down the corridor, speaking about matters that Anakin didn’t even concern himself. His thoughts were preoccupied with worries over Obi-Wan’s disappearance and Padmé. What happened to her? Did the bad guys get her as well as Obi-Wan?

Almec finally stopped at the door. It parted open and he gestured Anakin to step inside. Anakin did as instructed, eyeing the new room. High ceilings and mosaic windows brought an elegance he didn’t expect upon entering. The sunlight glazed the room in gold, bringing a sense of warmth and ease to the setting despite the tension building up inside Anakin. The room was long and contained only an elongated, rectangular table and tall chairs positioned. There were a few costumed guards stationed in different places around the room, standing at attention. No one looked at him. Except for the person sitting at the very end of the table.

Dressed in a blue dress and wearing a jeweled headband, she raised her gaze from her plate of food to the opened door. Her blonde hair brushing her shoulders as it swayed with the movement. She smiled and rose from her seat.

Anakin recognized her immediately.

It was Satine. The Duchess of Mandalore. And _supposedly_ Obi-Wan’s friend.

“Anakin,” she greeted. “I’m sure you must be hungry. Why don’t you join—”

In a heightened rage of betrayal, Anakin shouted over her words. “You!” he cried. “You kidnapped me?”

Duchess Satine was startled by his outburst. “What? No! I didn’t—”

“Obi-Wan will find me!” Anakin declared, face flushed in deep crimson. The Force sparked in reaction to his outburst, turbulence unbalancing him. “He always finds me! And, when he does, you’ll regret it! He will cut down every single one of—”

“That is enough!” Duchess Satine cut Anakin off. She didn’t looked quite pleased anymore. That was fine with Anakin. His judgment of her plummeted when she kidnapped him from Obi-Wan and Padmé.

She moved around the table. Every guard in the room took notice and readjusted themselves to adequately protect her. As the Duchess neared Anakin, she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a folded flimsi.

“Obi-Wan wrote this letter for you,” the Duchess said, passing the note to Anakin. “It should explain everything.”

Anakin tentatively took the note from the Duchess. Carefully, he unfolded the flimsi and was surprised to recognize Obi-Wan’s handwriting.

 

        _Anakin,_

_Forgive me for what I have done. As I’m sure you are aware, you are no longer in Naboo. I have entrusted you and your care to my good friend, Satine. She will care and protect you until I return._

_I know you are upset and hurt, but it was done for the best intentions. You were in grave danger! I had to get you off Naboo and somewhere far away so that the Sith wouldn’t find you. I’m sorry I cannot be with you at the moment. I wish I was, but I need to keep the Sith away from you._

_Once I lose them, I’ll come back for you. I promise. The Duchess has granted you asylum and you will be under the disguise as a long-lost nephew. Until then, be respectful and considerate to her. And practice your training!_

_Again, Anakin, I’m sorry for the deceit. I only want to keep you safe. I will see you soon._

_Promise._

_Obi-Wan_

 

Anakin read the letter twice. It felt heavy in his hand. Each word a weight he could not readily bear.

Obi-Wan left him.

Abandoned him.

He lied and deserted him on a strange planet.

Left with only a promise.

Unsteady breaths released the building of shock that rocked him. He swallowed the pain and strengthen the dam. He could not cry. Not in front of all these people.

Anakin’s hands trembled as he carefully folded the flimsi, crunching it in his hand as he tried to not think of the betrayal. Why did Obi-Wan leave him? They were a team. Weren’t they? Why did Obi-Wan feel the need to be responsible for everything? To go off alone—confront the Sith alone—was madness! Obi-Wan shouldn’t be alone. Obi-Wan needed to be protected as much as Anakin needed protection. They were in this together. This was their fight. Not just Obi-Wan’s alone.

It was their fight!

The Duchess watched with somber flickers, unsure whether to offer comfort or solitude for the boy. After consideration, she made up her mind. “Would you care for something breakfast, Ani?” she offered, gesturing to the bountiful dishes of fruits and assorted meats. “I’m sure you are quite hungry.”

He wasn’t. Not anymore. “I’m… I don’t feel well,” Anakin muttered, looking back to the doors he entered. “I-I want to go back to my room.”

Duchess Satine understood and chose to lead him back to his assigned bedroom. Anakin tottered along, keeping quiet as his mind cried out for Obi-Wan, pleading that it was all a dream and he wasn’t alone. But every tug he made on their bond reminded him that it was all too real. Obi-Wan wasn’t here. He wasn’t with him.

Anakin was very much alone.

When they arrived back at his bedroom, Anakin was too lost and too sadden to remember the proper respect to a royal member. He simply pushed open the door and walked into the room, his feet slapping the carpet with finality.

“He’ll come back, Anakin,” Satine reassured as Anakin stopped halfway to the bed. “I know Obi-Wan. He’ll come back for you.”

Anakin bleakly looked back at the Duchess. Confidence heightened her words, resembling almost a promise. Anakin knew better. After living on the run for almost his entire life, he knew better that promises could be broken.

He swallowed hard. “He shouldn’t have to come back for me at all.”

Anakin didn’t care to see the Duchess’s reaction. He marched to the bed and fell on it, curling around the fabric to warm his cold chest. The flimsi was still clutched in his hand, gripping it as a way to stay close to Obi-Wan. It was his handwriting and it might possibly be the last thing Anakin would ever have left of him.

* * *

Obi-Wan’s awakening was not a gentle transition. It was a sharp slap that screamed his mind to wake. His eyes snapped opened, vision distorted that all he could see were black shadows and shades of brown. His head rolled to the side, eyes blinking rapidly to quickly regain sight.

The image before him was chaotic. Everything blended together and he felt wind fluttered around him. Loud clicks and snaps pounded his head like a zealous techno-music. Another slap jolted his vision right. The shadows sharpened into unique individuals and the brown shades turned into a cavernous wall that enclosed around him. It was nothing like Naboo. Whereas Naboo was well-rounded, smooth and regal, the room he was trapped in was rough-edged, sharp, dark edges and utilitarian layout.

Obi-Wan glanced up. He was underground and possibly in a cave based off the craggy ceiling. As to where, Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure. Another flutter caught his attention and Obi-Wan recoiled at the sight of a strange-looking face flapping in front him. Obi-Wan recognized the species as Geonosian. They had slender frames with leathery wings right behind their bony shoulders. With reddish skin, rigid skulls and thick, bulbous eyes, they were not attractive creatures. Not with perpetual scowls frozen on their large and elongated faces.

The Geonosian flapped closer and Obi-Wan recoiled only to realize he was chained up to the wall. He could not move. The Geonosian clucked and clipped at him, the communication lost in translation.

The Geonosian’s frown drew longer and spoke again—louder. Again, Obi-Wan had no idea. “Speaking louder doesn’t translate your words,” he said.

The Geonosian’s hand flew up and slapped his cheek. Apparently, he understood Basic.

“Enough!”

The Geonosian flapped to the side, revealing the slender figure of the Dathomirian assassin. She strutted toward Obi-Wan, her hips swaying as she approached and her lips pulled high up in delight. Her white fingers reached up to Obi-Wan, stroking his chin. Her nails pressed against his skin and left a long white, mark as she dragged the nails down his jawline.

Obi-Wan pulled his head away and he heard the woman cruelly laugh at his expense. “Look at you, Kenobi,” she sneered at his imprisonment. “You look terrible.”

Obi-Wan stared back at her. A hint of smile flickering on his face. “When compared to your beauty, my dear,” he said with a glint in his eye. “I have no doubt.”

The woman bristled. She didn’t expect that response. “Your charms are ineffective on me.”

“Yet, I find myself alive,” Obi-Wan pointed out, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “After all, last we met, you were most determined to kill me. Has our brief encounter gave you a change of heart?”

She bared her teeth, letting out a low snarl. “Why would it? You’re nothing, but scum. A false Jedi!” She spoke in a low and ragged passion as she turned her shoulder to him. “You don’t deserve their attention.”

Obi-Wan poised a brow, arching high. “Ah… you speak of Qui-Gon and Dooku?” he said, catching the woman’s flicker of recognition upon the names. “You _do_ work for them. I thought so. One of their assassins? Yes, of course. Your fighting is similar to Dooku’s. I guess he trained you?”

The woman said nothing, but her cheeks reddened and there was a turbulent disturbance radiating off her. Obi-Wan hung in his chains, relaxed. “I assume they promised you apprenticeship if you captured me?” Another snarl from her answered his question. “You should know—they won’t take you as their apprentice. Deceit is the way of the—”

“You think I don’t know that?! That even after all this time, they still want _you_!” she screamed and glared at him, embroiled with emotion. “I do! I’ve always known! Every day for the past six years, all I ever heard was _Kenobi this!_ _Kenobi that!_ ” She snatched his face, squeezing it so that his lips pursed. “It’s all I ever _heard_! How great Obi-Wan Kenobi was. Well—”

She threw his face away from her and pulled out a dark mask. She greedily fingered it as she looked from the mask to Obi-Wan. “I have a present for you, Kenobi,” she said in a sweet devilish tone. “A gift that will _prove_ to my masters the truth about you!”

Obi-Wan eyed the mask. All the humor vanished and his heart drummed madly. He knew what that mask was. He’s seen it on Serenno.

A Sith Mask.

The woman caught the scent of his fear. “Yes… you must recognize it,” she said sweetly with a feral grin. “A treasure among Sith artifacts.”

Obi-Wan leaned back, the back of his skull pressed into the cavern walls. The woman enjoyed his fear, engulfing herself in it. “Why don’t you try it on?”

It was a pointless struggle. The woman easily covered Obi-Wan’s entire head in the mask. The only holes available were for his eyes. He was given a clear view of the assassin’s sneer. She was pleased, her hands hugging her hips as she rocked in desire at the sight. Her fingers slid against her own chin as she hungrily watched Obi-Wan struggle to temper the mask’s powers.

Obi-Wan couldn’t feel the Force. All he sensed was dark energy, drilling into his mind and soul. The Dark Side’s oil tendrils wrapped around him, tainting every sense of feeling, touch, smell and sight. He reached deeper into the Force, trying to draw any light to shield himself, but everything was clouded and darkening. Like poison.

The woman darkly chuckled. “Do you feel it?” she cooed at him. “The Dark Side? The mask is imbued with dark energy. Prevents you from accessing to the Force while incising you with the dark energy.”

She waltzed over, so close that her breath nearly dried Obi-Wan’s eyes. She grabbed the back of Obi-Wan’s head, jerking him up so that she could glorify in his pain. “Soon, they’ll see what you truly are,” she said with heated breath. “That you’re nothing more than a broken man. Weak and pathetic. Then they shall accept me as their apprentice.”

Obi-Wan saw in her eyes a lust that burned inside her. A fire unable to extinguished until he crumbled at her feet a broken man. “Once you’re gone,” she hummed, victorious. “I will have a _new_ master!”

The woman let him go and his head fell forward. He heard her snap commands to the Geonosians and the collusion of doors that ensured he was trapped in the room. Obi-Wan growled at his lack of Force connection. Perhaps she found a way to torture him, but he refused to break. For three years under Sith authority and not once did they convert him into a Sith. If Dooku and Qui-Gon failed to convert him, then the woman would only find disappointment.

He would not break. Not for her. Not for anyone.

* * *

Qui-Gon sat in his cockpit, steering the ship in the direction to Geonosis. When he was far away from Coruscant, he set up a comlink transmission. It wasn’t a long wait. Soon, a blue holo-image of Ventress appeared on his control panel.

Ventress bowed before him as expected. “Yes, my Master.”

Qui-Gon tapped his fingers against the control panel, studying her face. “Did you intercept the package?”

Ventress closed her arms behind her back. A similar gesture to Dooku’s casual, confident manner. “Intercepted and delivered, Master,” she confirmed before adding. “Though… the boy wasn’t on board.”

Anakin wasn’t with Obi-Wan? Certainly they wouldn’t separate. Unless… Obi-Wan thought it would be for the best. Even then Anakin would refuse to be separated from his guardian. “Are you sure the boy wasn’t on the ship?” Qui-Gon inquired.

Ventress nodded affirmatively. “I am certain. We checked and killed all on board,” she reported. “No boy. Only Kenobi.”

Better to have one than none at all, Qui-Gon reminded himself. “Good work, Ventress,” he returned. “I’ll be landing in a few hours. Be sure Obi-Wan is ready upon my arrival.”

A flash of envy ran across her face. Her jawline became more prominent and her eyes fell to slits for a brief second before returning to normal size. She rigid herself back into an imposing and diligent posture, but already Qui-Gon saw the cracks.

Ventress tried to hide her stiff posture with an attempted graceful bow. “Yes, my Master.”

Qui-Gon turned off the transmission and eased himself back in his seat. It was no big surprise that Ventress’s fury swelled at the end of their communications. There was always a lingering jealousy from either Ventress or Maul. Already, he and Dooku were aware they both despised Obi-Wan with passion that was equivalent to their hunger for power. Their anger of Obi-Wan only increased upon their defeat at his hands.

Qui-Gon held no doubt that Maul would have snapped Obi-Wan’s neck if Obi-Wan wasn’t quick enough with the blade to the abdomen. And Ventress… well, he’ll be there in three hours so Qui-Gon doubt she would be capable of doing anything too damaging. If she did... well, Qui-Gon wouldn't mind practicing a lightsaber technique on her.

He exhaled, the pent up anticipation released into the Force. They finally captured one of them. Obi-Wan was in their custody and as long as Ventress doesn’t mess up, Qui-Gon would have his old padawan again.

Seven years. It had been seven years since Obi-Wan ran away. All that time, he grew into a powerful Force user, dodging bounty hunters and Jedi alike. Then outmaneuvering the Trade Federation and defeating both Ventress and Maul, Qui-Gon could not be more proud of the man Obi-Wan has become. His powers have grown and with his capture, they are nearing to the prophesied future.

With Obi-Wan under their care, it would only by a matter of days before they found Anakin. He sensed their separation won’t last very long. After all, their Force bond is too strong for either of them to willing let go of the other. A defect in acquiring strong Force bonds. But it would work well enough for Qui-Gon’s and Dooku’s plans for them.

Qui-Gon watched the distance numbers get smaller as he traveled through hyperspace. He could not stop the grin forming on his face. He had missed Obi-Wan and was greatly looking forward to their second (and last) reunion.

He would not lose him! Not again. He made a promise. A long ago promise made in a different time. A promise he refused to break, couldn't break. He intended to uphold that deathbed promise for as long as he was alive. 


	21. No Place to Go

The metal clasps encircled around his wrists kept Obi-Wan from ripping the mask off his head. The Dark Side hooked its tendrils into his skin, drilling into his mind until it aggravated him enough that he wanted to scream. It was hard to focus with the Dark energy pulsing around his head and defiling his connection to the Force. Any attempt to draw on the Force received backlash. Needle-like pricks punctured every pore in his skin, shredding him that he almost thought he was cut opened. 

His strength ebbed as the time past. The chains on his wrists gave way as he slowly folded on himself, crumbling under the torrid despair. It was worse than his time in the detention cells. There, he didn’t feel the Force at all. Here, he felt tainted. Like poison entered his veins and convoluted his entire body and soul.

Voices! Dark, lulling voices murmured in his ears with promises of falsities. When Obi-Wan rejected, the voices grew harsh and critical, surging on his fears and memories. Obi-Wan needed to scream! He so desperately wanted to scream the pain away.

No! He couldn’t. That would be what the woman wanted. To see him beg and surrender to her authority. Never! Instead, he concentrated all of his will power on breathing. His breaths were not as fluid as he wished. Short and labored gasps, but it gave him enough control to drown out the murmurs and throbbing pain.

He needed to stay focus. Escape was necessary. His stay was dwindling and soon, he would either be a dead man or—worse—a captive in the Sith’s hands. Thankful for sight, Obi-Wan explored his surroundings a bit more closely. He had Geonosian guards standing at the doors. The intent clear. The extra security was placed to ensure he stayed exactly where he was. They carried only electrostaffs, which, Obi-Wan calculated, might be useful.

A few short minutes later, Obi-Wan hashed out a plan. 

Then, very purposely, he started to hack. The cough was sharp and obnoxious before it suddenly became clipped gasps of someone choking. He was not really choking, but he needed a good show to convince the Geonosians that something was wrong. Obi-Wan lurched his arms for his neck, ensuring the chains rattled in retaliation as he coughed louder. He restrained himself from taking a breath or else lose credibility. He needed the Geonosians to think he was actually choking. He kept coughing and moved his body in rigid, jerky motions. Tears slid from his eyes at the moment he began to think the Geonosians wouldn’t care if he died. 

But, then, the guards spoke to one another in their language and flapped over to him. One guard held up its electrostaff, ready to strike. The other, reached for the mask and, not too gently, yanked off the mask. 

Obi-Wan barely restrained himself from not sighing in relief at the sudden rush. The dark fog lifted, light burst through and Obi-Wan recognized the calmness of the Force bedding around him. Security and warmth enveloped him and for that brief moment, he felt safe. 

Until the guard punched him in the stomach. 

Obi-Wan curled into himself, gasping upon impact. He had no expected that. Though, to be fair, that was probably their version of a choking rescue. Once he regained a more normal breathing pattern, Obi-Wan straightened and inclined his head in mocked gratitude, “Much appreciated.”

Not understanding, the Geonosians prepared to put the mask back over his head. Obi-Wan waited until they got close enough. Once the Geonosian was inches from his face, Obi-Wan smashed his head against the Geonosian’s skull. The Geonosian screeched as it fluttered backwards, dropping its electrostaff. Obi-Wan’s snatched the weapon with his legs and drove it into the second, charging Geonosian. The Geonosian’s wings fluttered and then went stiff before it fell with a dull thud. 

Seeing its comrade fall, the other Geonosian guard flew toward the door. Obi-Wan couldn’t let the guard escape and alert the assassin. Using his weak connection to the Force, Obi-Wan lifted the electrostaff in the air. Right as the Geonosian’s hand got to the handle, Obi-Wan released the electrostaff. It spiraled in the air and directly hit the Geonosian in the back. Like its partner, it too fell to the floor in one final screech. 

Obi-Wan used the Force to free himself from the chains. He checked on the Geonosians vitals, sensing that both were alive, but zapped unconscious. A far better alternative than what may happen to them later. 

He went to the door and softly quipped over his shoulder. “Thanks for the assistance.”

Obi-Wan stepped through the opened door and bolted. He had no clue where he was going. The place was a maze with multiple, poorly-lighted corridors that sprawled in either direction. There were no windows. Not that he was aware. The only natural light came from a gaping hole at the very top of the organic spire, leaving Obi-Wan to move from shadow to shadow in the catacomb hive. The sound of approaching wings caused Obi-Wan to slip into an opening on the cavernous wall. He squeezed himself through, peeking out to watch a horde of Geonosians flap past his hideaway. 

Once the Geonosians moved away, Obi-Wan heard whirling and pounding sounds coming behind him. Scooting back and twisting his body around, he followed the sounds until he came to a new gap in the Geonosian’s ventilation system. Below was a factory with a huge alignment of conveyor belts, pounding machines and bins. Hundreds of Geonosians worked at different stations, assembling either droids or blasters. On the opposite side, finished droids marched down the corridor, disappearing in the dark tunnels. 

Obi-Wan backed away, hiding himself as he reflected on what he saw. The Geonosians were building an army. The same droid army that took over Naboo. But, there had to be thousands of droids down below in the wide, opened area. For what purpose? Were they going to strike Naboo again? Obi-Wan wouldn’t believe so. Not with the Trade Federation captured. Then again, it wasn’t the Trade Federation that invoked the attack. It was the Sith. 

Qui-Gon and Dooku were planning something. And from the looks of it, Obi-Wan didn’t want to personally find out what the droid army was for. He needed to get off Geonosis and make contact with Master Yoda. The Grandmaster needed to know of the factories on Geonosis. 

There had to be a comm station somewhere in these catacombs. He smuggled out of the ventilation system, dropping in the shadows. Time was dwindling. He maybe had a half hour of time before that assassin learned of his escape. There was no time to waste. He darted down the corridors, opening doors, but found disappointment. No comm station anywhere. 

When he opened the final door, he came face-to-face with several warrior Geonosians. Obi-Wan didn’t get the chance to express a dry remark when the Geonosian started shooting. Obi-Wan ducked in time to avoid a bolt to his head. He doubleback and sprinted away, throwing himself through another entryway. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize there wasn’t a room on the other side. He fell two stories below, landing hard on a conveyor belt. 

Dazed, he rapidly blinked to remove the black spots that dotted his vision. His vision cleared in time to see a large stamper coming down on him. Obi-Wan rolled, narrowly missing the metal machinery that almost crushed him. He flopped on the floor, scrambling to his feet when he heard the whirling sounds of blasters firing. He dove behind a pile driver as bolts rained down against it. 

He huddled behind the pile driver, eyes darting around for any assistance. He spied a large vat a few meters away. If his assumption was correct, then he drew up a perfect plan to cause a distraction. 

Obi-Wan calculated the actions needed to make his plan a success. The buzzing sounds of wings growing closer prompted Obi-Wan to quit planning and take action. He jumped back on the conveyor belt, dodging the bolts that blasted at his feet. He waited for the heavy heads of the stamper to guide up before he dove under, making his way straight to the vat of molten metal. A trio of Geonosians surprised him, plummeting down on him with their electrostaffs. Obi-Wan felt the jolting shock of the first stab of the electrostaff. He recoiled, but swung out of the way of another stab. He knocked himself over onto a different conveyor belt that headed in the opposite direction. The next Geonosian flapped close and jabbed the electrostaff at him. Obi-Wan twisted his body away, moving his limbs to avoid it being punctured by sharp metal and excruciating pain. The Geonosian lunged again and Obi-Wan kicked up, his boots landing a perfect punch in the Geonosian’s face. 

The other two Geonosians charged as bolts still kept firing in his direction. To be quite honest, Obi-Wan didn’t have time to handle with the madness and small army. He grabbed the fallen Geonosian’s discarded electrostaff and, with the aid of the Force, struck the other Geonosians down. He hopped back on the conveyor belt, ducking from bolts and diving between machinery to avoid another hit.

He rushed to his coveted destination. As he got close, he Force-leapt onto the high platform that overlooked the large vat. As predicted, the vat contained molten metal. He squatted behind the machine, using the electrostaff to stave off bolts as he studied the control panel. If Anakin was here—which Obi-Wan was thankful he was not—he would know the exact buttons to press. But, Anakin wasn’t with him and Obi-Wan pressed every combination of buttons on the console in hopes that one of them performed the task needed. 

A Geonosian landed beside him and brought down his weapon, but Obi-Wan swept the Geonosian off his feet and gave him a hard kick in the stomach. The Geonosian coughed and stumbled off the platform, screaming until his screams were silenced by fire. The flesh and bones disintegrated in the molten metal.

A few tries and fighting off two Geonosians later, Obi-Wan was happily greeted to the bellowing sounds of a siren. The vat moaned as it tilted. The blaster fire stopped and a flutter of wings whizzed as the vat spilled its entire contents on the floor of the factory. Obi-Wan watched from his hideaway as the molten cascaded out of the vat and flooded the factory floors. Terrorized screams and fluttered wings erupted as the Geonosians fled for their lives. The mass exodus gave Obi-Wan the cover he needed to slip away.

He glanced up, spotting an opening above him. With another Fore leap, he caught the edges of the opening and pulled himself up. He looked down, examining his work. The vat of molten metal did the job well. It destroyed the entire factory. A faint trace of pride showed on his face as he happily acknowledged that his work caused some kind of dent in Dooku’s and Qui-Gon’s plan. 

Obi-Wan swept down the corridor again, forgoing any chance to look for a communication post. He needed to get out. Armed, Obi-Wan checked corners, incapacitating any Geonosians he encountered with the electrostaff. He pushed onward, moving quickly up the floors. One of the floors had to contain a hanger or some sort of airstrip. Each minute passed was another minute of being detained again.

Down the corridor, he heard the clanking of metal on stone. Droids! Not only did he have to worry about Geonosians, but battle droids as well. The odds were not in his favor. 

When the droids rounded the corner and spotted him, they opened fire. Quick on his feet, Obi-Wan swung out of the corridor, clutching the sides of the catacombs. There was no other place to go, but up. Like a lizard, Obi-Wan scaled the rugged wall, digging his fingers into grooves to help his ascent. Geonosians flocked upon the very sight of him, forcing Obi-Wan to abandon his climb for safety. He squeezed himself into one of the ventilation shafts openings, turning off his electrostaff as he scrambled through the vent to a new level. He overheard the Geonosians shout out orders and Obi-Wan imagined they were sending his gracious host an update of his location. 

He trudged onward, arriving at a new opening that was relatively quiet. He clambered out, brushing off the residue of his ventilation journey from his clothes. The corridor was eerily quiet. In fact, it was the quietest corridor he’s been in since his arrival. 

Something wasn’t right. 

The air around him suddenly thickened, an intensity he that began to overwhelm his senses. Before he could analyze the change, a wave of Force energy swept over him. Obi-Wan only had time to brace himself from the impact. He delved into the Force, gathering his strength to counteract the attack. His shield rose up, protecting him and effectively subduing the Force against him. 

The strength of the onslaught lessen. Obi-Wan took the chance to refocus his attention to his surroundings, catching sight of the Dathomirian assassin strolling out of shadows. 

“My—you _are_ tenacious,” the assassin purred. “I can _almost_ see the reason they would want you alive.”

Obi-Wan dismantled his shield and stood erect. “You’re too kind, my dear.”

The assassin scowled at the affectionate pet name. “I think it’s time you and I finish our battle.” She pulled out her dual lightsabers, igniting it. The red blazed cut into the dark, hissing in mirroring the owner’s own anger. 

Obi-Wan looked back to his electrostaff. While it was an unfair advantage for the assassin, Obi-Wan knew the staff would have to make do. He pressed the button and the electrostaff hummed in his hands. He swung the electrostaff above his head, dropping into position. “If you insist,” he said. 

And the foreplay ended. The assassin charged with a predatory grin spreading across her face. Already, she believed herself to be victorious in this duel. She slashed at Obi-Wan’s electrostaff, but Obi-Wan angled it right so that the tips caught the lightsaber. The contact crackled and hiss in retaliation. Obi-Wan pulled back first, not sure how much his electrostaff could take against the kyber power of a lightsaber. The assassin took that moment to bring her blade up, trying to cut him in half. Obi-Wan jumped back. He swung his electrostaff to the right, nearly catching her thigh before she parried it. She gave a hard shove, forcing Obi-Wan to side-step to avoid a jab of her lightsaber.

She was just as ferocious as she was on Tatooine. The woman’s face flushed and her eyes bespoke an emotion Obi-Wan couldn’t quite pinpoint. He wanted to say lust, but that wasn’t correct. It was like lust turned inside-out by an overwhelming fleshy hunger. A strong, unhealthy desire to beat him, to control him, to… to conquer him. 

The combat continued. Both parrying, deflecting, slashing and stabbing each other in their best attempt to weaken the opponent. Sweat beaded along Obi-Wan’s hairline as he kept up his stamina, matching her strength and agility in swordplay. The assassin snarled, her teeth clenched as she increased the power in her hits. She pressured Obi-Wan back and Obi-Wan realized that he was backing up into the wall. Too slow to stop it, Obi-Wan rethought of another plan when the assassin trapped him with her dual blades. 

Obi-Wan shot up his electrostaff and the crackling of the defense informed both that they were in a lock. 

The assassin added more pressure, drawing her crossed blades closer to Obi-Wan’s neck that he could feel the heat sear his neck. The assassin was positively giddy at the sight of her sabers getting closer. She leaned in, her face mere inches away from his. 

Her breath kissed Obi-Wan’s face. “My dear,” he said with his best Coruscanti accent as he lifted his eyes to her. “I don’t get this intimate without knowing a name.”

The assassin bared her teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kenobi!”

Obi-Wan only offered a wry smirk. “Only on rare occasions.”

He got the reaction he needed. His comments distracted the assassin, leaving her vulnerable right underneath her lightsabers. Obi-Wan used the Force, causing her to move her weapons up, exposing herself. With his weapon freed, Obi-Wan plunged the electrostaff into the assassin’s chest.

The assassin let out a curdled scream, recoiling. Obi-Wan pushed himself off the wall and struck again. The assassin had little recovery and barely prevented another strike. She was still exposed and Obi-Wan hit the ends of his electrostaff against her wrist. Her hand seized and she dropped one of her lightsabers. In no time, Obi-wan scooped it up. While he wasn’t fond of the color, it would do. 

Armed with an electrostaff and a lightsaber, Obi-Wan swung both and got back into fighting position. The assassin backed away, hunched and breaths labored as she attempted to regain her strength by drawing on the Force.

Obi-Wan brandished her with a cunning smile. “You were saying?”

Her eyes became slits as she growled in resentment of losing her weapon. “That does not belong to you!”

“No?” Obi-Wan said, glancing at the ugly red lightsaber. Red was definitely not his color. Nonetheless, it would do. “Then come and get it.”

Fueled by revenge, charged blindly. Her swordplay was sloppy and uncontrollable. She was letting her emotions take full control. Her mental shields shattered, the Force freely crackling around her as she hammered him with all the power and strength she could afford. However, it was not enough to penetrate Obi-Wan’s defense. 

Soon, her strength waned and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to finish the duel. He hit her other wrist with the electrostaff, forcing her to release the other lightsaber. Before she could snatch it, Obi-Wan stepped on the blade’s hilt. He pointed her lightsaber to her, drawing an end to their duel. “It’s over,” he announced. “Yield.”

The assassin snarled. Fists clenched and the muscles in her face tensed, she only looked more determined than ever. Obi-Wan didn’t need to end the duel in blood. “Yield!” he repeated. “It’s over! You’re under arrest.”

Suddenly, the woman’s face lightened up. Her snarl turned upward, a replication of the proud smug she wore at the beginning of the duel. Relaxed, she uncurled her fingers to drop her hands to her hips. “Shoot him.”

What?

The surprise bolt caught him in the back. While it was clear that the bolt was set for stun, it still had the same effective as a real bolt. Obi-Wan buckled under the shooting pain, dropping his weapons as he descended. He let out a soft grunt of pain upon impact, his cheek pressed against the warm and dusty, stone floor.

Once again, his body was numbed and his eyesight fading. Yet, he held onto his strength to mutter to the assassin as she approached to collect her weapons and bounty. 

“You cheated.”

The assassin knelt beside him, her spidery fingers combing through his hair before she grabbed a fistful of it to yank his head up. “All is fair in love and war.”

Then, she planted a kiss on his lips. It wasn’t tender or affectionate. It was hard and invasive. A domination. 

Obi-Wan reeled from the offense and when the woman parted, she let his hair slip through her fingers. Obi-Wan’s head smacked the ground again, his ear ringing. His vision faltered, a sign he was losing conscious again and soon. 

“My dear Kenobi,” said the assassin’s voice overhead in the oncoming black sky. He felt a cold touch against his dry lips. “Remember this: I—Asajj Ventress—beat you.”

* * *

Qui-Gon arrived on time. He landed with no troubles and made his departure from his ship. He strode down the ramp, taking in the sight of Geonosians fluttering about to care for his ship and secure crates containing weapons. None of that concerned him as he spotted Ventress making her way toward him, followed by what Qui-Gon knew to be the leader of the Geonosians—Poggle the Lesser. 

And indeed, the Geonosian leader’s appearance gave him a visage of a brittle individual. Something that Qui-Gon could simply destroy with only his mind. So Qui-Gon had to wonder what brought the leader of Geonosis to his arrival. His conclusions came to one specific person. 

"What happened?” Qui-Gon asked as Ventress made her respectful bow.

Ventress stood up, chin tilted in a conceited pose. “Kenobi attempted an escape, my Master.”

“Attempted?”

“I beat him in a duel,” she said again, vanity all over her face. It was quite obvious to Qui-Gon that she was waiting for praises. Unfortunately fr her, he had no inclination to do so.

“And how, might I ask,” Qui-Gon offered instead of praises, “Did he get out in the first place? I was told you had him secured.”

Ventress finally realized the implications of her failure the first time and retreated. The proud features morphed into one of somber apology. “The Geonosians failed to keep him contained, Master. I quickly learned of his escape and captured him before he could do any more damage.”

“ _Any more damage_?” Qui-Gon repeated. Less than three hours and _already_ his old padawan caused havoc. “What did he do?”

Now Ventress looked terrified. She kept shifting her eyes, her feet swaying as she stumbled for words. “He… Kenobi destroyed the main factory, Master,” she finally confessed. “He flooded it with molten metal. The entire floor is destroyed.”

Qui-Gon stared, dumbstruck for a moment. Obi-Wan. _His_ Obi-Wan destroyed an entire weapon factory all by himself. It appeared his former padawan wasn’t capable of going anywhere without causing mayhem. Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger in thought. It was a small setback. There were more factories on the planet that could make up for the loss. 

“I see,” Qui-Gon said as he withdrew his hand from his face. “Doesn’t surprise me. Obi-Wan is quite capable of causing trouble without any help.”

“Unfortunately, my Master,” Ventress spoke up again, looking uneasy as she flickered a glance at the Geonosian leader. “Poggle is upset by these turn of events. Kenobi destroyed his home, business and many of his fellow brothers and sisters. He demands Kenobi’s head.”

Does he now? Qui-Gon stared down at the Geonosian leader. That grubby, weakling wasn’t going to touch a hair on Obi-Wan’s head. “It’s a terrible shame what has befallen on him, but Obi-Wan will not receive their unique brand of punishment,” Qui-Gon stated, clearing expressing that there would be no argument. Qui-Gon would handle Obi-Wan. No one else. “If he wishes to be compensated for the damages and loss, then he may contact Dooku for the money." 

Ventress obediently nodded. "Yes, Master.”

Qui-Gon scoffed at the title. He wasn’t her master. He may have trained her a bit, but he hardly considered her his apprentice. More like a minion to do the dirty work and take the fall. “Good,” he uttered. “Now… where is he?”

Qui-Gon was led through the catacombs, going deep into their underground lair. He walked passed the factory, examining Obi-Wan’s handiwork. The molten metal swallowed nearly everything. It was hard to even tell what it once was! Qui-Gon merely shook his head, a tiny smile peeking out from his beard. Only Obi-Wan could cause so much damage by himself!

It was only a few more floors down that Qui-Gon arrived outside a door guarded by a squad of twenty battle droids. Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow up, surprised by the vast number guarding the door. He was sure Obi-Wan would be annoyed by the excess of guards. A sign to show off their power against his. Again, he was sure Obi-Wan would find the situation insulting. 

One of the battle droids granted him access, opening the door. Qui-Gon bowed into the room. It was empty. No guards or even a heavy security system. Nothing, except one thing. Qui-Gon’s eyes immediately drew to the center where a blue Force field kept a suspended Obi-Wan Kenobi locked. The Force field kept his limbs ensnared, only leaving his neck and head mobile. Qui-Gon closed the door and the young man in the stasis strained his bruised neck to see over his shoulder. When he saw spotted Qui-Gon, those blue-hazel eyes fixed him with spirited determination.

“About time you showed up,” spat Obi-Wan as he slowly rotated in the field. “I was beginning to wonder if you would come at all?”

A quiver of a smile rose on Qui-Gon’s cheeks. “I’m here now,” he said, stepping out of the shadows and into the blue hue that came from the Force field. “No need to panic and run.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan responded, craning his head to keep an eye on Qui-Gon. “It would be mass hysteria if I was freed again.”

“Yes, I saw the destructive evidence of your attempt to escape,” Qui-Gon said with raised eyebrows. Ventress did not joke about the destruction Obi-Wan left in his wake. Dooku was right about him in that regard: Obi-Wan was trouble. “The Geonosian leader wasn’t thrilled by your action. He has demanded your death.”

Obi-Wan barely reacted. “Tempting offer.”

“I wouldn’t hand you over to the Geonosians, Obi-Wan.”

“I meant for me,” Obi-Wan corrected him. “Death does sound far more appealing than being in your custody.”

Qui-Gon leaned forward, hands resting on the console. “Trust me, padawan, it is not,” he warned. “Their way of execution is to throw you in a gladiator arena and watch your limbs be torn off by wild beasts.”

That garnered a reaction. Obi-Wan's brows furrowed to create a crevice between his eyes. “I take it you’ve seen a few yourself?”

Qui-Gon merely shrugged. “Saw enough to not desire another show." 

"A show?” Obi-wan quietly grated, revolted. “You call  _murder_ a show?”

“To the Geonosians it is,” Qui-Gon responded, tucking his hands in his robes. “They almost live for such barbaric entertainment.”

“And Siths are above such barbarity?”

Qui-Gon’s brows slanted downward in a sharp V. “I don’t torture or kill for pleasure. Only out of necessity.”

Obi-Wan didn’t speak. Not at first. His body rotated another loop before he finally cast his opinion. “Are you waiting for me to commend you?” he asked, coolly. “Tell you that I’m impressed with your  _restraint_? Well—you sought the wrong person for felicitations.”

Qui-Gon did not favor that tone. Not when he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t enjoy killing anyone. Every life has some sort of purpose. But, deaths were necessary to make way for a better life—for people with more importance. Dooku had different morals. He wouldn’t even hesitate to torture Obi-Wan to remind the young man who was in control. Qui-Gon wasn’t like that and he thought Obi-Wan would at least appreciate his more honorable views. But, the young man’s disgusted mien was not the reaction he sought and it irritated him. 

His lips went thin as he spoke. “I told you that to prove I’m not the monster you believe me to be.”

Obi-Wan stared down—a first for him—from where he was suspended. His face distorted as if he smelled something foul. “Nothing you say will change my opinion of you,” he said through clenched teeth, eyes shimmering with undisguised abhorrence. “You murdered a mother to obtain her child… so that he could be used as a weapon," Obi-Wan said. "Compared to you, the Geonosians are gracious hosts.”

Qui-Gon stopped. He heard enough of Obi-Wan’s criticism for one night. He abruptly turned away from Obi-Wan, his robes billowing around his ankles as he strode off. He felt Obi-Wan’s eyes on him, questioning his movements. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was unable to see him. Obi-Wan was rotated to the point he faced the opposite jagged, brown walls. 

Qui-Gon stepped in front of the console, studying it before he pushed several buttons. Obi-Wan heard the sounds. “What are you doing?” he asked, his nerves precariously teetering. 

Qui-Gon said nothing. Let the young man be doused with anxieties and fears.

Obi-Wan huffed. “I see,” he muttered. “Going to keep me in suspense.”

Qui-Gon briefly flickered up to Obi-Wan, catching the young man’s wry expression. Obi-Wan often enjoyed witty repartee. Qui-Gon usually participated, but enough time was wasted. With the final punch, the Force field zapped out and Obi-Wan dropped from his encasing. He didn’t fall very far and unsteadily landed on his feet.

“My thanks,” Obi-Wan murmured as he brushed his hair away from his face.

Qui-Gon nudged his head in the direction of the door. “We need to get going.”

He walked from the console to go directly to the door when he paused. Obi-Wan hadn’t moved nor indicated that he would follow. Qui-Gon pivoted to glare Obi-Wan, raising his brows in a challenge. “This display of resistance is pointless,” he reminded his old padawan. “You have no place to go.”

“I thought I was invited to participate in the gladiator arena?" quipped Obi-Wan. 

Qui-Gon frowned. "You already know that won’t happen,” he reminded him. “Now, you can walk out of this room or be dragged. The choice is yours.”

Obi-Wan looked crossed as he contemplated his options. Qui-Gon watched the cogs click in Obi-Wan’s mind. He slowly dwindled to the realization of the truth. There were no other options. He had no power to fight out of his corner. As Qui-Gon already pointed out, resistance was futile. And Obi-Wan understood the truth.

He slumped in defeat, his gaze lowered as he bitterly acknowledged Qui-Gon’s statement. He huffed, angry at his predicament. Without another word, he marched. He blatantly passed Qui-Gon, his shoulder smacking into Qui-Gon as a form of protest. Obi-Wan strode out of the room. All the droids raised their weapon to fire on command, but Obi-Wan ignored the threat and turned down one of the many labyrinth corridors.

“Wrong way,” Qui-Gon commented to Obi-Wan’s back.

Obi-Wan’s shoulders bulged in a sharp posture. Qui-Gon heard a grumble before Obi-Wan pivoted and returned to Qui-Gon’s side. “Then lead the way,” he gritted through his teeth.

Qui-Gon motioned Obi-Wan to follow and this time around, the young man did so without remarks or resistance. He made out the loud taps of Obi-Wan’s worn shoes against the hard stone. They weaved through the catacombs, catching a few sights of battle droids and Geonosians, who clacked at Obi-Wan in derision. Qui-Gon sent them one daring glare and the Geonosians backed away. 

They finally reached the hanger where Qui-Gon’s ship received the final checks from the droids and Geonosians stationed. He sensed Obi-Wan’s rising apprehension. He had forgotten Obi-Wan’s fear of flying. He suddenly reconsidered knocking Obi-Wan unconscious for their journey.

His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Ventress. She sallied forth down the ramp, hands linked behind her as she waited for Qui-Gon’s approach. Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan’s disturbance in regards to Ventress. It was no surprise Obi-Wan lacked any respect or regard for the assassin. Not after their duels.

Ventress bowed as expected, eyes down before raising them up to meet Qui-Gon’s. “The ship is ready whenever you are, my master.”

Qui-Gon heard Obi-Wan scoff at Ventress’s greeting. The young man found some dark humor and perhaps, a tinge of jealousy? Qui-Gon would analyze it later. “Thank you, Ventress,” he said. “We need to depart at once.”

“Of course, Master,” Ventress agreed and she ordered the nearby Geonosians to prepare departure. The Geonosians nodded once before they flew away to prepare Qui-Gon’s and Obi-Wan’s departure. Ventress returned to Qui-Gon. “We’ll be leaving in shortly.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon said as Ventress moved to follow up Qui-Gon on the ramp. “However, Ventress, you will not be joining us.”

Ventress’s face broke. Stunned before it cracked into a meditated anger that flared her usually pale complexion. “But… Master—”

“You are to stay here and oversee the project,” Qui-Gon cut her off. “Only Obi-Wan and I will board the ship.”

Ventress wanted to say more. He could see her envy poisoning her mind, luring her to insecurities and vengeance. Her dark eyes feverously darted from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. Yes, the main source of her aggravation and hurt. 

“Master, I insist—”

“You will do what I say,” Qui-Gon snapped, tired of insolence from both Obi-Wan and now his assassin. He was in no mood to deal with pettiness and jealously. That could be handled in the dojo at another date. “Are we clear?”

Ventress retreated and dropped her gaze. “Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon said as he reached for Obi-Wan. He felt the young man’s arm and tightened his grip around it. Obi-Wan attempted to pull away, but Qui-Gon kept him ensnared. He led Obi-Wan halfway up the ramp before he stopped and turned. “Oh… and Ventress?”

Ventress looked up, hopeful, only to witness a barge of Sith lightning strike her in the chest. 

Qui-Gon observed her whole body convulse as the lightning coursed her whole body, pulling her down to the floor of the hanger. She let out one tiny scream when Qui-Gon sent another round lightning onto her. She shriveled in pain, curling to contain the wreaking havoc of pain. It was only after the second round that Qui-Gon dropped his hand and watched her wither on the floor for a moment. Ventress slowly uncurled herself, eyes blinking too quickly to stay focus. She rolled her head up. “W-Why… Master?”

How could she not know? It seemed fairly obvious. Qui-Gon looked on with disdain. “That’s for trying to kill him,” he answered. “On Tatooine.”

Ventress’s sight went beyond Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan, who struggled the entire lightning show to get out of Qui-Gon’s iron grip. But, once the punishment ended, Obi-Wan forgone his fight and fell into a quiet horror. Ventress’s labored breaths could be heard clearly and when she looked back to Qui-Gon with bristled understanding, she accepted the punishment. 

Satisfied, Qui-Gon finished leading Obi-Wan up the ramp and drew him into the ship. Once inside, he raised the ramp and sealed it close. Obi-Wan stood off the side where Qui-Gon left him, observing with mortification. Lips parted, Obi-Wan looked like he had a thousand words to say. But he didn’t say anything. Too shock from what he witnessed. After all, Obi-Wan never observed Sith lightening in use.

Qui-Gon motioned to the small seating area behind Obi-Wan. “You can—”

“You’re a liar!” Obi-Wan suddenly found his voice. He fixed Qui-Gon with an opposing glare, calling him out on his lies. “You told me you don't torture for fun.”

Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. Did Obi-Wan actually feel sorry for the assassin? “That wasn’t for fun,” he said. “If you remember, she was punished for going against orders. She was told to not kill you or Anakin.”

“And she didn’t.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Qui-Gon countered. “Besides—what do you care? Nothing I say or do will change your opinion of me. Isn’t that what you said?”

Obi-Wan was breathing heavier, his breaths shorter and raspier. He looked at Qui-Gon with dark certainty. Like he had witnessed his own devastating fate. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed with some difficulty. “Yes and you’re proving me right.”

“I didn’t torture her. She received her full punishment and will remember to not act against us again,” Qui-Gon stated, firmly. Was it that hard for Obi-Wan to see the difference? If he wanted to torture Ventress, he would have kept going until her nerves were all fried and her carcass smoked. But, he didn’t. He gave her two zaps for her insubordination and attempt to kill Obi-Wan. Such actions needed stricter and harsher punishments. 

And it no longer mattered. It happened and they needed to move onward. Qui-Gon again gestured to the seating area. “I suggest you buckle up." 

"I want to sit in the cockpit," Obi-Wan announced.

That was a surprise request Qui-Gon did not expect. "Oh? You no longer have an aversion to flying?” Qui-Gon asked with a small, teasing smile. 

Obi-Wan only scowled in return. “No, but my aversion to surprises is more prominent at the moment.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head. “Then follow me.”

Once they arrived at the cockpit, Obi-Wan took his seat in the co-pilot chair. Qui-Gon instructed him to put his hands and arms on the armrests. Obi-Wan didn’t dispute the order. He situated his arms and Qui-Gon clasped Force inhibitor binders on both arms. The Force wasn’t completely cut off. Qui-Gon wasn’t a savage like the Jedi at the Temple. He granted Obi-Wan enough Force so that he was still focused, but not completely adept in fighting. 

Obi-Wan was well-aware, but didn’t comment on it. He reclined in his seat to his best ability with all the tensed muscles in his body. Qui-Gon quickly set up the control panel and readied the ship. He received permission and he pulled the lever down. The anti-gravs lifted up and the ship gave a little shake. Qui-Gon looked over to Obi-Wan and saw that the young man only lightly gripped the edge of his armrests. 

With skill, Qui-Gon guided the small ship out of the hanger and rocketed into the sky. As they entered space, Qui-Gon couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He finally captured Obi-Wan. His old padawan sat beside him, almost like the old days when he was a boy, a braid hanging on the right side of his head. He was 

Qui-Gon glanced over to Obi-Wan. The boy was gone, shaped into a sharper, more cynical young man with his auburn hair longer and body of a skeleton with bruises and scars from his seven year long absence. Once they arrive at their final destination, Qui-Gon would ensure Obi-Wan received the proper medical treatment and food to nourish him back to health. He couldn’t have a weak apprentice. That wouldn’t do anyone any good.

He clapped on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he punched the final coordinates for hyperspeed. Obi-Wan looked at it disdainfully, shrugging it off his shoulder. It was clear Obi-Wan loathed his presence, but Qui-Gon ignored the young man’s displeasure in favor for the happier memories they had years ago. Years when Obi-Wan was a small boy, bursting with pride and awe at being a padawan to the famed maverick. Qui-Gon yearned for those old days. He knew he couldn’t go back to those days, but he gladly accepted the pale reflection of it.

He slipped his hand off Obi-Wan’s shoulder and took control of the steers. They had time to fix mistakes and make amends.

They had all the time in the galaxy now. 


	22. Welcome Home

Obi-Wan kept his eyes forward, straight ahead at the white and blue streaks that flashed by the viewport. He recalled a memory of his past, when he first sat up in the cockpit and witnessed his first hyperspace. He was amazed by the power and sheer beauty of the hyperspace. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon, when he was a Jedi, explained the workings of hyperspace and its progressive stance within the Republic's history. 

So lost in the memory, he forgotten that he wasn't a padawan anymore. Qui-Gon was no longer a Jedi. And he was strapped to a chair, unable to wrench free of a darkening fate. It was this realization that Obi-Wan spurred into protest. He jerked his hands, tugging and twisting, in a desperate attempt to break free. 

Qui-Gon observed from the corner of his eye. "Settle down," he said quietly. "We will arrive soon enough and you can stretch out your limbs then."

Obi-Wan looked sharply. "Will I? Or will you chain me up and put a mask over my head?"

The Sith Lord cocked an eyebrow, quizzical. "What?" he asked, clearly humored by Obi-Wan’s accusation. "What are you talking about?"

Obi-Wan kept his lips pressed. An eyebrow arched in a poised and yet taunting manner. "Oh? You aren't aware that your precious assassin has a Sith mask?"

The humor died immediately. A severe frown dropped his face. And his eyes. His tranquil, blue eyes blasted yellow. "What do you know about it?"

"A lot more than I would like." It was all Obi-Wan was going to offer. 

A blast of frigid air collided into Obi-Wan. An intensity that disturbed the atmosphere enough to make Obi-Wan recoil in his seat. A groan reverberated in the ship as the metal around them tensed. 

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply through his nose. "I see."

Did he? Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon never experienced the black and cold sensation that seared his mind. Qui-Gon never endured the agonizing torture of his mind being wrapped up in voices that diluted his thinking or his connection to the Force being numbed and tainted. Qui-Gon never experienced any of it. So, no, Qui-Gon did not  _see_  anything about what Obi-Wan went through at Ventress's hospitality.

He wouldn't even care. After all, Sith Lords do not care about others. Love and compassion do not exist. Only power and self-preservation remained in their souls. Whatever Qui-Gon's feelings were for him, it wasn't love or compassion. It was a convoluted memory left from a Jedi long ago. One Obi-Wan could no longer reach.

Obi-Wan fell back against his seat. "What do I call you now?"

Qui-Gon's yellow eyes fluttered, specks of blue returning. "What do you mean?"

"What's your  _Sith_ name?" Obi-Wan clarified.

"I don't have a Sith name."

"I don't believe that."

Qui-Gon relinquished a sigh. "I don't, but even if I did," he said with a warming smile the erased the earlier coldness Qui-Gon held, "you can always call me Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan did not appreciate the sentiment. In fact, the sentiment burned Obi-Wan's heart. To look into the face of his old master brought an agony that deprived him of happiness. He could not look at Qui-Gon without seeing his caring Jedi Master be contorted into the yellow-eyed master before him. The monster took his master away from him. It invaded and destroyed, killing his master as it took over Qui-Gon Jinn's identity.  

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and blinked to hide the growing tears in his eyes. He missed his old master so much. "What happens now?" he decided to ask. Again, he preferred to know what he was heading straight into, especially when it involved a Sith. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Once we arrive at our final destination," Qui-Gon began, checking the time, "we'll get you cleaned up and healthy again."

"What else? Threats? Torture?" Obi-Wan expected, skeptical that only those two items were on the list. "Or perhaps you will try a round of brainwashing?"

Qui-Gon let out a long sigh. "Are you done guessing?" he asked, tired. "Or do you want to keep going?"

"What? None of those were on the table?"

"Obi-Wan..."

The young man shook his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter," he said. "After all, I won't have any say. Not like I ever did."

"I forgot how brooding you could be," Qui-Gon replied, shaking his head. "Ease your anxieties, young one. Things will be different now. I promise."

Qui-Gon spared Obi-Wan a smile, an attempt to comfort. It only left Obi-Wan feel unsettled. A promise from a Sith Lord was like a bestowed curse. Only horrors and tragedy awaited him. 

A beeping interrupted the heavy silence. Qui-Gon worked the control panel, taking a grip on the steers as he closed a lever down. The ship slowed. The elongated stars shrunk to dots. Smears of blue and white darkened to the typical black of space. Directly in front, right in the middle of the viewport, was a mountainous and forestry planet that Obi-Wan was quite familiar.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Welcome home," Qui-Gon said with a convivial smile. 

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He recognized that grey planet. It was Serenno. The one planet he never wanted to ever return again.

It took Qui-Gon an extra hour to land the ship at the nearby hanger. Obi-Wan spied the interior. It was the same hanger he used to escape from Serenno long ago. The anti-gravs locked on the floor, the ship hissing as it settled. Qui-Gon tapped the buttons and the screens went dark. They officially arrived on Serenno.

Qui-Gon waved his hand over Obi-Wan's cuffs. The metal unlocked and freed his hands. Obi-Wan instinctively rubbed his wrists just as Qui-Gon pulled him to his feet, shepherding him down the lowering ramp.

Obi-Wan bumbled his way down, taking notice of the private spaceport. The security around the spaceport increased. At least, from what Obi-Wan last remembered. There were at least a hundred droids patrolling the hanger floor, along with a number of human mechanics and flight dispatchers. The overkill was maddening, but he imagined Dooku changed the security measures since he fled. He eyed all the armed droids with abhorrence. Was he at a spaceport or fortress? 

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan by the elbow, leading him away from the ship and to a chauffeured speeder. A royal escort awaited for them. Most likely to take them to the palace. Obi-Wan slowed in his steps as a whiplash of memories hit him. The fear, loneliness and pain haunted the edges of his vision. Glimpses of what awaited for him when he got into the speeder. 

The leader of the small escort party stepped forward and formally bowed before Qui-Gon. "Greetings, Lord Jinn," he welcomed. "How was your trip?"

"Excellent," Qui-Gon answered, pulling Obi-Wan closer. "We need to go directly to the palace. The young one here needs medical attention."

As one, every single head dropped to examine him. They all wore similar, indifferent facial expressions upon spotting him standing next to Qui-Gon. They didn't recognize him, but a sense of polite respect was extended. After all, anyone who traveled with either Dooku or Qui-Gon must be of some importance. 

The leader nodded. "Right away, my Lord."

He stepped aside, opening the speeder to allow Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to take seats. Qui-Gon shuffled Obi-Wan into the speeder where he, undignified, flopped in a seat. Qui-Gon sat beside him as two guards took their positions in the back and one up front. The extra protection wasn't necessary. Qui-Gon was well-equipped to handle any attacks. It was a show of power. A demonstration to warn Obi-Wan that escape would be improbable and, also, impossible. And Obi-Wan detested that reminder. 

As they drove, Obi-Wan watched the scenery pass him. Luscious forests and ranges of mountains glamorized the planet. A promising place of adventures and paradise. Then, they passed through the edge of a nearby city and Obi-Wan noted the spires that towered over them. They were beautiful, elegant and refine. Boasting the appearance of regal and wealth, traits Dooku highly valued. Everything was neat and manicured to perfection. Nothing out of place or remotely unwelcomed. Again, another trait Dooku idolized.

The drove out of the city and headed down a long, private drive. Straight ahead, Obi-Wan easily made out the towers that belonged to Dooku's palace. It wasn't hard to notice. The main tower neared one hundred and nineteen meters, located on a cliff face. It was an impressive and imposing palace. Not as regal or old-school like Theed's palace or the modernized like the Sundari palace of Manadalore. But, it still reeked of wealth and power. A display of importance and might of the owner. 

There were a few meters away, driving past the three ornamental gardens, where well-crafted flowers bloomed in welcome. The speeder slowed in front of the main gate, a double line of obelisks ran alongside it as it towered over arriving guests. The speeder came to a halt. The guards got out and Qui-Gon gestured Obi-Wan to follow him. Obi-Wan got out of the speeder and surveyed the palace. Nothing changed. At least, not from the naked eye. He saw the network of relay towers with incandescent windows scattered along the palace's grounds, but again, there were no oddities Obi-Wan wasn't aware upon arrival.

Didn't mean he couldn't feel it in the Force. 

There was something wrong. The Force felt tensed. A dread followed by suffering. Obi-Wan kept scanning the grounds as Qui-Gon spoke to the leader on matters Obi-Wan didn’t care to learn. The Force was speaking to him. The Force bespoken pain. Not his. Others. Somewhere. Obi-Wan circled, looking around, but all he saw were guards and Qui-Gon.

He shook his head. He was missing something. Something of dire importance. He took one step away from Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord didn’t notice. He continued speaking with the leader of what Obi-Wan assumed to be the security team.

Obi-Wan took another step. No one noticed. His presence wasn’t registered with anyone. All attention was focused on Qui-Gon as they kept discussing. Obi-Wan turned away, gingerly reaching into the Force as to not alert Qui-Gon. The Force… there was a tremor of apprehension.

Another step. He was heading in the direction of the cliff face, where he once overlooked the grand mountains with awe. Step by step, he broke away unnoticed. The Force guided him, pulling him along a path that made him shudder.

Despite the sun shining down, Obi-Wan felt cold and a darkness that was so thick it was like he wore two tunics. The Dark Side seeped deeply here. Obi-Wan could feel it as if it was rubbing against him. He placed another step forward, eyes on the edge of the cliff. There was something there. The Force. It wanted him to go there.

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. He felt Qui-Gon’s questioning glare in the Force. There was no noise. No blasters whirling or lightsabers humming. Only the hard beat of his own heart racing.

“Obi-Wan,” came Qui-Gon’s voice again. “Come back here.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move. It would be easy for Qui-Gon to force him to return. A simple shot to his back or leg would effectively put him out of commission. Or, using the Force to secure him. Yet, nothing happened. Qui-Gon asked—no _commanded_ —for him to come back to his side.

Qui-Gon was giving him a chance before he had to utilize brutal tactics. Obi-Wan drew an unsteady breath. He almost pivoted. Almost. But the Force! It lured him to the cliffs. Pulling and pushing him in some desperation. The intention was clear. Blaring in his ears.

“Obi-Wan—”

Obi-Wan bolted. With the Force, he ducked and dodged the bolts firing at him as he raced to the cliff’s edge. He had no plan. No inkling of what to do other than he needed to see what was on the other side of the cliffs. Arms pumping and hair flying away from his face, he drew closer and closer.

The Force grew more intense. A near static combustion ready to erupt. The Force encouraged Obi-Wan to run faster. Already Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was chasing him down. And Obi-Wan was well aware that his chances of actually escaping were slim. It wasn’t about running away. It was about seeing what was on the other side that drew his curiosity and the Force’s insistence.

He had finally got the edge, skidding to the halt.

Except that his heart fell over.

Deep below, a land once full of luscious green was ripped up and replaced with a factory. It was hard to tell what the factory produced, Obi-Wan spied the high security: thousands of droids, towers placed strategically and armed with cannons and a wall the enclosed it so none could exit. Yet, it was not what the Force nudged Obi-Wan to look.

What Obi-Wan found screamed in his mind. A surge of fear, pain and suffering doused him, all hope and comfort fleeting in its torrid wake. Obi-Wan’s breaths turned short and labored as he saw the sight of hunched over humans, Twi-Leks, Chiss, Togrutas and many other different species. All collared and deep scars carved into their skins.

Slaves. They were slaves to the Sith Lords.

Obi-Wan surveyed the edge, wildly searching for a way to get down. He needed to help them. Save them all!

He never got the chance. On moment, he had the chance to make the leap and rely on the Force to pad his fall. The next, strong arms wrapped around him, dragging him away from the edge and away from the dark site below.

He fought back, kicking his legs up and throwing himself in an attempt to get his capturer off-balance. “Let go!”

“Stop Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s voice ordered. His fingers dug grooves into Obi-Wan’s skin as he held Obi-Wan immobile in his capture. “Stop—you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Obi-Wan didn’t give a damn about himself. The others below. Their suffering penetrated him fully. The electro whips that struck the spine, shocked him. He felt his own flesh be ripped open, knees buckling under the violence. He could not stop the brutality. Nor the fear. The anger. The hatred that blinded him.

He rammed his head back. The connection made and Qui-Gon’s grip loosen to tend to his own pain. Obi-Wan twisted, slamming his foot to Qui-Gon’s knee. Qui-Gon reacted quickly. He rotated, narrowly missing Obi-Wan’s boot. Seconds later, Qui-Gon swung Obi-Wan around, away from the edge of the cliff face so that he stood between it and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan launched himself at Qui-Gon. The collusion brought both to the ground with Obi-Wan on top as he scored a hit across Qui-Gon’s face. “Damn you!”

He pulled back his fist. His knuckles were ready to break a bone. He wanted to shove those bones and teeth right through his brain and—

An electric current jolted him. A strong zap right into his ribs brought him curling over and forgetting the second punch. Qui-Gon took his chance and flipped Obi-Wan off and on his back. Obi-Wan, recovering from the electric shock, spotted the security team behind Qui-Gon. One of them held a taser.

Qui-Gon pinned Obi-Wan down. His left cheek was swollen, but that was all the damage Obi-Wan accomplished. Not even a cracked lip or a nosebleed. It invigorated Obi-Wan to get up again. However, Qui-Gon was done with the show. He dropped a hand to Obi-Wan’s head and spoke, “ _Sleep_.”

Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon’s voice echo in his head. The Force pulling down around him, dragging him away from unconsciousness. He couldn’t. Obi-Wan had to stay awake. He couldn’t be left in this man’s mercy. He wrestled against the Force suggestion, teetering on unconsciousness. He fought back, grumbling as he focused on Qui-Gon’s image above him.

“No.”

Surprise fleeted across Qui-Gon’s features. It was clear Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to succumb to the Force suggestion and that gave some gratification for Obi-Wan. At least until a smirk rose from Qui-Gon’s trimmed beard. “I see you’ve mastered some stronger shielding,” he noted and Obi-Wan noticed the hint of pride in the Sith Lord’s voice. “I’ll remember that next time.”

Qui-Gon struck out his hand and Obi-Wan immediately lost all mobility. He laid perfectly still, watching in tense anticipation as Qui-Gon withdrew a tiny needle. Qui-Gon squatted down. “This may hurt a bit.”

It did. The moment the cold needle pierced the side of his neck, Obi-Wan felt his veins burn with fire. He hissed in retaliation as Qui-Gon purged the contents of the needle into his body. Obi-Wan’s vision blurred. He blinked several times in hopes to sharpen the fuzzy images, but it did nothing. His vision was fading and Qui-Gon’s voice sounded gargled.

The only thing he heard was the word ‘sleep’. And so he did. He shut reality off.

* * *

 

Duchess Satine stared at the holographic image with stunned eyes. She listened with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other cradling the side of her head. It couldn’t be true! She had just seen him a day ago. Her lips still tasted like him.

She shook her head. It wasn’t true. It could not be true.

Obi-Wan Kenobi could not be gone!

Yet, Satine had no reason to doubt Queen Amidala’s claims. The Queen was debriefed by the Jedi Council of its convoy’s attack. Everyone on board was killed. Everyone but Obi-Wan. The Jedi couldn’t confirm what happened to the convoy. The ship’s memory was wiped clean. All they know was that whoever attacked carried a lightsaber.

“How could this happen?” Satine asked the small holo-image of Queen Amidala. “I thought you and Master Yoda planned this thoroughly to avoid such incidents?”

Queen Amidala normally presented herself in a regal posture. Strong, determined and unbreakable. Older beyond her years both in face and wisdom. Yet, now, before Satine, was only a young girl, sporting a shared grief of failure, shame and apprehension.

“It appears we were betrayed,” Queen Amidala answered, somber. “My captain informed the Jedi Shadows of Obi-Wan’s movements, helping them with his capture.”

The captain? The man that stood beside the Queen when Obi-Wan carried Anakin onto Satine’s ship? Satine dropped her head to her hand, eyes closing briefly. He was betrayed by a man he trusted. Betrayed just under a half-hour after she left him with fluttering hopes of seeing him again in a week’s time. Now, those hopes were ripped right out of her heart and smashed to the floor by another’s betrayal.

“What became of the captain?” Satine asked. She needed to know if justice was made for Obi-Wan or, at least for her dashed dreams.

“Captain Panaka is of no concern anymore,” Queen Amidala responded with a cold touch that turned her image back to that of a cold monarch. “He’s betrayed the people of Naboo, along with my trust. He’s no longer a captain.”

That brought some satisfaction to the situation, but not enough to heal Satine’s wounds. “What about Anakin?” she asked, worried for the boy’s safety. “Did he betray Anakin as well?”

She swore to Obi-Wan she would keep Anakin safe. And if that two-face traitor did, she needed to remove Anakin from Mandalore immediately.

Queen Amidala shook her head. “No. Captain Panaka swore he only told the Jedi Shadows of Obi-Wan’s movements as they were only after him. Not Anakin.”

“Then there’s still hope the Sith do not know Anakin’s location,” Satine said, her heart slowing down; yet, it still ached over the loss of Obi-Wan. “Have they investigated Master Jinn’s whereabouts? Surely he took Obi-Wan. It must have been him.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn was deployed for a different mission,” Queen Amidala reported. “He had just departed from Coruscant at the time of the attack.”

Satine massaged her temples. It was silly to think a Sith Lord would be careless to make such mistakes like that. “It must have been outside help then,” Satine considered. “What did Master Yoda think?”

“He has no doubt that Dooku and Qui-Gon are involved in the massacre and Obi-Wan’s disappearance,” Queen Amidala said. “But in regards on proving such truths, there is little.”

“Then what has Master Yoda decided to do?” Satine questioned, aggravated over the fact they have nothing that could either rescue Obi-Wan or at least bring justice to the Sith Lords who kidnapped him. “How are we going to find Obi-Wan?”

Queen Amidala inclined her head in recollection. “Master Yoda wishes for you to remain under the radar for now,” she recounted. “Keep our heads down and our ears open. Keep a closer eye on Anakin. Master Yoda believes Anakin may… _feel_ Obi-Wan’s emotions and not react too well. If he does, Master Yoda would like you to contact him at once.”

Satine numbly nodded. She knew what Queen Amidala was hiding underneath her words. It wasn’t emotions that Anakin would feel. It would be Obi-Wan’s _pain_. As Obi-Wan explained years ago, the Sith were quite familiar to torture. The mere mention of it squeezed Satine’s heart. Faint heartbeats withered in her. Oh Obi-Wan…

“How am I going to explain to Anakin that Obi-Wan won’t be coming back as promised?” Satine whispered. Her voice could go no higher, dying in the wake of her loss.

Queen Amidala reflected her pain. “With the truth and hope,” she answered with the same confidence of those who held on nothing but faith. “I only spent a few days with them, but from my time with them, they are known to do the impossible. I believe Obi-Wan can do it again.”

Satine hoped she was right. Her time with Obi-Wan during the Mandalore Crisis proved to her Obi-Wan was an apt fighter and strategist. Talents she wouldn’t highly value, but in this case, she wanted to believe Obi-Wan could perform those same miracle escapes like they did on Mandalore.

Her head dropped to the side. She yearned to see him one more time. Just one more embrace.

“He will not take it well,” Satine said to the Queen. “He’ll be devastated.”

“As we all are,” Queen Amidala agreed. “If you need assistance, I can speak to Ani with you.”

That may be easier for the boy. Talking to a familiar face may make the boy more comfortable. “I shall com you tomorrow in the morning,” she said. “For now, it is late and Anakin will be asleep.”

Queen Amidala bowed her head in agreement. “Tomorrow morning then. I will await for your call,” she said. “Remember—keep a close eye on Anakin. Master Yoda still believes he is in danger.”

“Of course,” Satine said. “I promised Obi-Wan I would protect Anakin with my life. I will not break that vow.”

“I’ll let you know if we find anything on our end,” Queen Amidala said. “I pray we receive good news soon.”

They ended their conversation. Satine fell back in her seat, a hand over her broken heart. It still beat, but the pain it brought with each pulse crippled her. All she could see was Obi-Wan’s bright, amused smile. She could feel his gentle touch around her, shielding her from worries and pains alike. His breath kissing her face as he leaned close, the strands of auburn hair falling in front of face. And his eyes. His blue-green eyes that lovingly held his quiet devotion… and his tears.

Satine’s face pinched and her lips trembling as her lungs struggled to breathe. It could not happen again. Not again. Losing Obi-Wan the first time hurt too much that it was like a part of her burned away on an opened pyre. The second time, oh Force! It was too much to bear. Especially now that she’s caring for Obi-Wan’s child, who slept just a few rooms down.

Satine pulled herself out of her sadness. She could not break now. She’s a Duchess! The Duchess of Mandalore. She needed strength to keep her people and Anakin safe. She needed to be strong and selfless in order to uphold her promise she made to Obi-Wan. He was relying on her to keep Anakin safe. And she shall do what she must to insure it was kept that way. Even if it meant she could not grieve for Obi-Wan.

She gathered her gown and exited her chambers. Walking down the long corridor, followed by guards, she stopped right outside a door. She knew Anakin would be asleep. The boy tired himself out from all the brooding and pouting he did all day. Satine only wanted to check in on him, make sure he was comfortable and that he was all right.

The guards were instructed to wait outside and she entered the room with a quietness reserved for stealth. She slipped through the doorway, looking to the bed to find Anakin wide awake. He sat directly in the middle and his round eyes fixed on her.

“What are you doing up so late?” asked Anakin, confused as to why the Duchess would enter his room at such a late hour.

Satine stood, unmoving. “Oh, I was checking in on you,” she said. “You seemed to have had a stressful day.”

“That’s an understatement,” Anakin said, falling back on the bed, eye flickering up to the ceiling. “I’ve been trying to reach Obi-Wan. All day! And I got nothing. Something isn’t right. I know it!”

Satine walked further into the room. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Well, perhaps he’s too far away?” she suggested, though she had a good idea of the reason why Anakin couldn’t contact Obi-Wan through the Force. “I’m told that you cannot communicate telepathically across long distances.”

“Obi-Wan and I can!” Anakin declared. “I can sense him miles and miles away! I could probably sense him on that moon if he was there!”

Satine’s eyes flickered to the moon that was high above in the dark sky. That was quite the distance. Then again, Obi-Wan said the boy was powerful. Special. “Then you are very strong with the Force.”

“I am,” Anakin affirmed her observation. “And I should be with Obi-Wan now. We’re a team! He needs me!”

“Anakin—”

“Something happened to him. I know it!” Anakin insisted, worried as he sat up again, hurrying to the window and looking up at the sky. “He needs help. I need to help him.”

Satine despondently looked on at Anakin. The boy yearned for Obi-Wan’s familiar presence, missing it profoundly that Satine knew a heartbreak was in the near future. But, she pulled herself together and devoid her face of emotion. “And you will, but not right now,” she said. “You should rest, young one. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be too happy if he knew you were skipping sleep.

“And I’m sure, he’s all right,” Satine added. It was the hardest thing she had to say. The words were nearly stuck in her throat, almost unable to be spoken.

It seemed that her struggle didn’t go left unnoticed. Anakin turned away from the window, eyes curiously narrowed like he just caught Satine in a trap.

“You’re worried,” Anakin noted, stepping away from the window. “Something _did_ happen.”

“Anakin, it’s late—”

Anakin brushed away Satine’s attempt to change the subject. “What happened? Tell me! I know something did. I can feel it,” he said and his eyes studied her quickly. “Worried, but more terrified. And sad. Very sad. I can feel everything coming off you.”

Satine’s hands tangled together. She’s never been dressed down so emotionally before. Her emotions so exposed and easily readable. By a mere child no less! “Anakin, we’ll talk more in the morning…”

“Just tell me,” Anakin pleaded with a sad croak. His blue eyes growing rounder and wetter.

It pained Satine to see Anakin in defeat. She knew that she could not turn back and walk out the door without telling him. Anakin already knew the truth. He sensed it in the Force that something happened to Obi-Wan. Satine might as well confirm the boy’s suspicious. Even if it killed them both.

Satine took a seat on the bed and gestured Anakin to sit beside her. He did, still looking up at her with those large, sad eyes. She exhaled deeply, hands on knees as she turned to face Anakin. “I received word from Queen Amidala tonight,” she began and upon hearing the Queen’s name, Anakin sat up. A tiny spark rejuvenated in his eyes. “She reported that… that um… that Obi-Wan was… Anakin, Obi-Wan was betrayed.”

Anakin’s whole body went rigid. His lips barely parted for whispers that followed. “What?”

Satine gravely nodded. “It appears one of Queen Amidala’s security members tipped off the Jedi Shadows. They captured Obi-Wan on Naboo and arrested him.”

“But… no! The Jedi can’t take him!” Anakin shouted, shooting up onto his feet. “They can’t take him! Can’t we call the Senate or something? Tell them to release him? Like they did last time?”

Satine reached Anakin’s arm and guided him back to the bed. “I’m afraid that’s not the end of it, Anakin,” she said, taking another breath in preparation to bring down the hammer. To smash Anakin’s little heart into pieces like hers. “The Jedi convoy was attacked. Everyone died. Everyone except Obi-Wan.”

A little grin came to Anakin’s mouth. “The Jedi can’t beat Obi-Wan! He’s the best fighter in the whole galaxy!”

Satine shook her head. “Anakin—Anakin! Listen… it wasn’t because Obi-Wan escape,” she explained and her heart sank further down her body. “Anakin… Obi-Wan was kidnapped. He’s gone. No one knows what happened to him and no one can reach him.”

Anakin’s jovial smile faltered. It slipped down from his cheeks and turned toward his chin. “What… what are you saying?”

Satine held Anakin’s hands, cupping them both just as her mother did when she was young and was about to receive sad news. “Anakin, we believe the Sith have taken Obi-Wan hostage.”

Anakin’s face ghosted. Pinched white and tensed, he looked like a young boy struck by death. He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. He didn’t do anything for a long moment. Satine nearly called for healers, fearing the boy went into shock when Anakin finally murmured through his dried lips.

“I should have been there.”

“Oh… no, Anakin,” Satine said. “Don’t say that. Obi-Wan wouldn’t want you there.”

Anakin slowly shook his head. “I should have been there. I should have been there. I should have—” He leapt off the bed, pacing and shaking. His chest expanded with hot air, redness creeping up his neck. The boy was getting angry. The atmosphere in the room grew thick and dry, static seemingly building and ready to strike lightning. And then, Anakin screamed. “It’s all my fault! Obi-Wan’s in trouble because of me! Because they want me!”

“No, Anakin—”

“They’re going to kill him. Torture him,” Anakin rambled off, eyes madly looking everywhere, but Satine. “They’re going to kill him just like they killed my mother!”

Anakin came to a halt. Realization dawning those eyes before blackening into a dark understanding. “It’s all my fault,” he cried and tears burst out of his blue eyes. “I’m the reason my mother died! They killed her to get me and now they’re going to kill Obi-Wan too because of me.” Anakin drew his hands to his face, his shoulders convulsing and his body wracking in guilt. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

Satine thought her heart could not break anymore. That her heart had already turned to dust with Obi-Wan’s loss. But she was wrong. There was still more to shatter and she felt the shards of her heart stab through the chest upon seeing Anakin sobbing over the loss and guilt.

Satine was not a mother and knew very little about children. Her lack of knowledge didn’t stop her from acting what was needed. She gently pulled Anakin back to the bed, sitting him down as he continued weeping for Obi-Wan. Then, as she saw other mothers do for their children, she wrapped one arm behind Anakin’s back and the other in front of her. Like what Obi-Wan did for her when she cried over the bloody violence of Mandalore. She enclosed her arms around him, sheltering Anakin as she drew him near. Gently, she rubbed Anakin’s arm in comfort.

“Listen here, young one,” Satine addressed to the blubbing child. “It’s not your fault. It won’t ever be your fault. Obi-Wan is a brave, selfless man. He would never blame you for what has befallen on him. It is the Siths’ fault. It is _they_ who commit the atrocities.

“Do not lay their actions on your shoulders, Anakin,” Satine continued to murmur to the boy. “Obi-Wan and your mother would not want you to. You are not at fault. Okay? You are not at fault.”

Anakin stirred in her arms, but he didn’t try to break from her embrace. He rested his head against her, his breathing ragged from the cries were torn from his lungs. “I can’t lose him,” Anakin whimpered as he inhaled sharply through his nose. “I can’t lose Obi-Wan.”

Neither could Satine. Not again. “You won’t lose him,” Satine assured him. “I have faith that Obi-Wan will prevail.” She glanced down at the boy. Tears still streamed down his face as Anakin tilted his head back to look up at her. “We won’t lose him, Anakin. We will see him again.”

Anakin stared off for a moment and Satine wondered if he was using the Force to check if the statement was a definite prophecy. Then, he lowered his head, resting it against Satine’s side as another round of sobs returned.

Satine laid her head on top, joining in the grief, but in silence. She kept him in her embrace, comforting him and letting him release his grief in the shelter of her arms. They stayed that way, both tangled up in their shared despair of losing someone they loved. It would be another five hours before Anakin collapsed under the sheer amount of emotional stress. He fell asleep on Satine’s lap, red-faced and tear tracks everywhere.

Satine threw a blanket over him, tucking him in for the night (or early morning). She didn’t leave the bedroom though. She stepped away from the bed and took her position on the sofa-couch. It didn’t feel right to leave Anakin alone. Even if he was asleep, she thought it better to stay and be there upon his awakening.

In the meantime, she was going to read up on some history that may help locate Obi-Wan.

 


	23. The Kamino Plot

“They are building a droid army?” Mace Windu uttered in strong disbelief.

The blue holo-image of Qui-Gon Jinn confirmed Master Windu’s fear. “They have multiple factories, producing battle droids by the thousands. As for what reason, I cannot say. I do believe the operation is connected to the Invasion of Naboo.”

The circle of Councilors all hummed and mumbled in reflection to the news. Master Jinn transferred his discoveries to the Council and everyone reviewed the reports and evidence on their respective datapads. Qui-Gon captured the Geonosian’s factories and its leader, Poggle the Lessor. The Council were deeply disturbed by what they saw and read in Qui-Gon’s report.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi inclined his head. “Was the assassin present on Geonosis?”

“I found no presence of the assassin,” Qui-Gon stated. “I did, however, download notes in regards of a transaction between an individual I assume to be the mysterious assassin and a contact from a planet called Kamino.”

“A transaction?” questioned Master Gallia. “What type of transaction?”

“I have no idea. There is very little detail on the matter. But, there are lots of recordings in regards Kamino.”

“Kamino?” questioned Master Plo Koon. “What’s there?”

Qui-Gon sighed in defeat. “Unfortunately, I found no information on Kamino,” he said. “When I researched further, I found no evidence of such a planet. I checked the systems in the archive chart. There is no planetary system by that name.”

Indeed that was curious. “Are you sure?” raised Master Windu.

“Quite,” Qui-Gon said. “I checked the coordinates found in the notes I downloaded from the Geonosian station. But Kamino doesn’t exist in the coordinates. Not according to the chart.”

“Perhaps the coordinates are incorrect?” suggested Master Even Piell.

“I took that into consideration and I expanded my search,” Qui-Gon responded. His image faltered for a minute, but returned. “I found nothing, Masters.”

“Maybe the planet was destroyed?” offered Master Plo Koon.

“Yet not recorded?” Master Gallia shook her head in disbelief. “I find that impossible.”

“Are you suggesting that the Jedi Archives are incomplete?” challenged Master Windu.

Master Gallia straightened in her seat, but not in defiance. “I would not say incomplete, but it’s mysterious that a planet is not on our radar.”

Master Rancisis shook his head, hair swaying in his face. “Our archives are comprehensive and totally secured,” he declared, denying the possibility of their information being out-of-date or lacking. “If Kamino is not on our chart, it’s because it never existed.” He turned to the rest of the Councilors. “This Kamino is clearly a decoy.”

Qui-Gon’s blue image hummed with doubt. “I don’t think so. Why would the Geonosians create a fake planet? They have no reason to forge documents. They were unaware of the Shadows investigation into them.”

Another murmur shuffled amongst the Councilors, all discussing quietly to their neighbors on the situation. Qui-Gon’s revelations perplexed everyone. What was going on in the galaxy? Ever since Obi-Wan Kenobi’s reappearance, the galaxy was chaotic. Invasions, armies and mysterious planets. The galaxy was becoming a much darker and stranger place.

Master Windu leaned over his massive stone chair, looking pensive. He turned to the wisdom of the Grandmaster. Yoda sat perched in his seat, gnawing on his gimer stick in deep contemplation. He removed the stick, resting it across his lap as his beady brown eyes looked up into the image of Qui-Gon Jinn. “Visit the coordinates, you should,” he commissioned. “Investigate this, we must.”

“I am already piloting over to the coordinates as we speak,” Qui-Gon informed the Council. “I’ll report back any findings, Masters.”

That Councilors approved. After all, the more information they have, the better they would be equipped to confront whatever mysterious force that was puppeteering the galaxy.

Before Qui-Gon ended the com, his gazed was back to Master Yoda. “Master? Is there anything… any news on Obi-Wan? Naboo?”

All the Councilors looked to Master Yoda. After all, the Council assigned blame on Master Yoda for the incident involving Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was _he_ that allowed Obi-Wan freedom; and thus, forced the Council to send a team of Jedi to recapture him. And all of them died, with the exception of Garen, who was paraplegic. What did their efforts bring? Obi-Wan Kenobi missing.

Master Yoda tilted his head back. His small eyes staring up into the tall man’s face. “Naboo freed,” he answered, claws twisting the gimer stick on his lap. “Kenobi a hero to the People of Naboo.”

Qui-Gon looked pleased to hear that his padawan became a hero. Now, all the Councilors waited for Master Yoda to inform the proud Master that his former padawan was attacked and declared missing.

But Master Yoda never released that information. “Focus on Kamino. Discover the connection between Geonosis and Kamino, you must.”

The Jedi Master didn’t ask for more information on Obi-Wan. He let it drop, happy to know Obi-Wan’s status. He bowed to the Masters and his blue image zapped out.

Master Windu spoke first. “You didn’t tell him the full story.”

Master Yoda humphed. “No need. Distract him, it would,” he rotated his head, looking at every single Councilor. “Falling over the galaxy, the dark shroud is. Focus on the mystery before us, we must. Find Kenobi, we will, if solve the mystery presented.”

The Council meeting adjourned. All the Councilors rose from their seats and quietly swept away to rejoin the rest of the Order. Master Dooku spoke to a few Councilors, discussing and sharing information in regards to the assassin, Kenobi’s disappearance and the elusive Kamino. Dooku performed his duties as a Jedi Councilor to the fullest, before he could properly excuse himself to attend another duty.

He returned to his quarters, sealing the door promptly and drawing down the blinds. Once certain no eyes or ears could eavesdrop, he opened a channel. Qui-Gon reappeared again, a smaller form than he was in the Council chambers.

“Master,” Qui-Gon greeted. “I was expecting your call.”

“The plan is working in our favor. Questions and confusion have riddled the Council with doubt,” Dooku reported, pausing for a moment to take a seat. “Appears Ventress upheld her end of the mission. Is Kenobi secured?”

“I took care of the security myself,” Qui-Gon told Dooku. “He will not be running anywhere.”

“Good,” Dooku said, satisfied. One less thing to be concerned over. “What about the boy? Skywalker? Did Kenobi say anything?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I haven’t got the chance to speak to him about Anakin.”

“You spent the better half of a day with Kenobi,” Dooku said, not pleased with the response. “How do you not have the boy’s location?”

“Because Obi-Wan spent the majority of the time either fighting or brooding,” Qui-Gon easily replied. “I was forced to subdue him. He was unconscious when I was forced to depart.”

Dooku clenched his jaw as he silently fumed how their next phase rested on a troubled, young man. Dooku understood Qui-Gon’s hesitation to retaliate against Kenobi, but times of the essence called for serious action. They needed the boy’s location. They needed him to be under their control. And if Kenobi refused to be a willing participant, then Dooku would not fault himself in taking the _necessary_ actions needed.  

“The minute Kenobi awakens, get the locations on that boy,” Dooku ordered Qui-Gon. “Once we obtain the child, then we can re-start our mission.”

“It won’t be easy Master,” Qui-Gon said to his old master. “Obi-Wan has stronger shielding. It’s more fortified.”

“Then torture it out of him,” Dooku snarled out, no longer caring about not upsetting his old padawan. “Do whatever it takes, Qui-Gon. If you have to see Kenobi live through adulthood, you will find that child!”

Dooku immediately ended the communication without a pause. He didn’t mean his last statements as a threat. Dooku had no immediate plans to end Kenobi’s life. He’s seen the future ahead. Every vision of it, he saw Kenobi, standing on the brink, leading a charge. It varied from vision to vision. The future darkening or lighting. Mass murder and war. Or peace and celebrations. It all varied, but the only constant was Kenobi and the boy.

Thus, they were needed alive and kept in their custody to ensure the future Dooku envisioned for the galaxy.

And, it helped that Kenobi belonged to their lineage. If anyone was ever going to be important, it would makes sense for them to come from Dooku’s strong and powerful lineage. A demonstration of their might and their significance to the galaxy. It was destined for them to rule.

* * *

Obi-Wan bleary woke to a voice above him. His mind was submerged in fog, lost in the moment between sleep and waking. Yet, the voice grew louder, penetrating through the fog. He peeled his eyelids back and all he saw were blots of blended colors. He closed his eyes again, a deep intake of breath that shuttered his body awake. He reopened his eyes and bit by bit, his vision was restored. The colors morphed into a grey ceiling and grey walls and a green hue enveloped the room, giving off a mystified atmosphere.

Confusion befuddled him until, like a lightning bolt, he remembered everything. 

Betrayal. Kidnapping. Ventress. Sith Mask. Serenno. Slaves.

Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan shot up. He was on a bed. Soft and large enough to comfortably accommodate two people with ivory sheets draping him. His gaze swept the room, noting the small table and two chairs, bookcase fully stocked and a closet that Obi-Wan imagined contained clothes of fine threads. But, what mostly grabbed Obi-Wan's attention was the protocol droid that stood on his right, leaning over him with yellow glowing eyes.

"Master Kenobi," the silver plated droid addressed him in a pleasing, programmed voice. "Are you experiencing any side effects? Headaches? Dizzy spells? Pain?"

Obi-Wan stared at the droid with repulsed invasion. "W-Who are you?"

"I am TC-11," it responded. "I am to insure you are comfortable and well-cared."

Obi-Wan blinked. "What?"

The protocol droid lifted a scanner to his face. A flaring, red laser scanned his face, beeping results. The protocol droid looked over the reader. "Temperature normal. Heart rate good. Pupils no longer dilated. Brain activity normal."

Obi-Wan checked off in his head. That all sounded good. Still didn't answer the question he wanted.

"That's great," Obi-Wan said, pushing the blankets off. Apparently his old clothes were taken, replaced with sleeper clothes that fit perfectly. He didn't even want to know who changed him. "What happened to me? How long was I out?"

"The drug kept you in hibernation for ten hours, master," TC-11 informed him. "During that time you underwent a physical examination, grooming and you received a nutrient drip to regain some of the lost weight and missing vitamins not found in your blood."

Hearing everything they've done while unconscious made him feel violated. "Anything else?"

"No, Master Kenobi," TC-11 answered. "Lord Jinn was specific in that you were restored to good health."

Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan's fingers curled around the edges of the mattress. "He's here then," he said, sharply. "I suppose he's waiting for me to speak with him?"

The protocol droid tilted. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," it said. "Lord Jinn is not on the premise."

Obi-Wan must have misheard. "Come again?"

"Lord Jinn departed hours ago," TC-11 said. "I'm afraid that is all I am allowed to say."

Naturally. Obi-Wan didn't expect the droid to confess to everything. Qui-Gon would have been vague or not said a word at all. Even if he did, he would have instructed the droid to remain quiet about his plans. It didn't comfort Obi-Wan on the fact Qui-Gon departed. He spent seven years chasing them only to leave him alone right when he got him exactly where he wanted? No, Qui-Gon only left him behind if it involved Anakin. And that certainly didn't sit right in his stomach. 

Obi-Wan immediately reached out through his bond to contact Anakin. It was mute. He couldn’t reach to Mandalore. Too far away. Yet, Obi-Wan strained himself with a strong focus, reaching as far as he could until he collapsed at the sudden exhaustion. Anakin was too far away to communicate without a comlink.

Still, Qui-Gon’s absence provided Obi-Wan a better chance at escaping from the hellhole he found himself in. The quicker he got away, the sooner he would be with Anakin. He took another look around the room, searching for anything that may be usable in escaping.

TC-11 examined him. "Would you like breakfast?" it asked. "Lord Jinn wants to make sure you eat all three meals."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet, toes digging into the beige carpet. "I'm not hungry at the moment," he said. "I would like to stretch my legs though." 

He moved, each step heading to the door. That is until he realized that the door was more of a sliding panel with no handle or a key code to open it. There was no way out.

Obi-Wan turned back to the droid. "Um... how do I open the door?"

TC-11 bumbled up beside him. "You do not have authorization outside this room," it stated. "You are confined to this room for the remainder of your stay."

Obi-Wan only gaped at the droid with an undisguised astonishment and disgust. " _Confined_?" he repeated, looking from the droid to the door. "Are you saying I can never leave?"

"That is correct, Master Kenobi."

"Then how am I to eat meals?" Obi-Wan challenged. "Or use the fresher?"

"Meals will be brought to this room," clarified TC-11 and she pointed at something that was behind Obi-Wan. "And a newly built-in refresher has been added to your suite."

Obi-Wan followed the line of sight of the droid, noticing a door with a handle for him to open. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, the hunts, kills and threats, Qui-Gon abandoned him to a life of seclusion with only a droid for company—who's under Qui-Gon's orders. 

Obi-Wan glanced about the room, taking stock of what would be quarters for the rest of his life. He’s had worst. A lot worst. Though, those homes gave him the chance of freedom, to explore wherever he desired to go. This place, was nothing more than a prison. Qui-Gon and/or Dooku could provide the best bed or food or whatever, but it would still be a prison. A place he would love to escape.

He moved across the floor toward the window. He was several feet above the cliff side, but hundreds of feet from the bottom of the cliff. If he got out the window and onto the ledge, the risk of falling over to his death was almost a guaranteed. Again, death seemed more welcoming than being forever trapped in a room with a droid.

Obi-Wan went to open the window.

“It will not open, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan flickered his attention to TC-11. “What?”

“The windows do not open,” TC-11 clarified to him. “It’s controlled by a locking mechanism that is not located in this room.”

“Then unlock it.”

“I do not have that authority.”

“Who does?”

“Count Dooku and Lord Jinn.”

Of course. Obi-Wan resigned and fell back against the wall, head tilted back in despair. He could not survive this maniacal torture. To be locked away forever with nothing, but his doubts and failures for company… and a droid to remind him of it.

He should have expected this. The heightened security and being forced to stay in a trapped room was probably his fault. Him running away the first time probably insured that there wouldn’t be a second. Freedom was now an illusion. Unobtainable. Gone forever. He would forever be watched. Every move observed. Every thought scanned. Every action analyzed. Privacy was forcibly relinquished and left him with an invisible collar around his neck.

He too was a slave to the Sith.

TC-11 bumbled over to where Kenobi leaned against the wall. “Master Kenobi? I think breakfast would do you some good. Get some nutrients to replenish you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No thank you,” he answered to the droid. “I’m not hungry.”

“I must insist,” TC-11 said again. “You are currently underweight as it is. You need food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m ordering breakfast,” TC-11 said anyway. “I’ll get a spread so you may choose to your liking.”

Obi-Wan glared at the droid. This was the reason why he didn’t like droids very much. They never listened nor adjusted to situations. They did what they were programmed to do. And nothing else. They didn’t care he was emotionally distressed or the fact he wasn’t hungry. Qui-Gon told the droid to ensure meals were brought to the room and the droid was going to do just that.

“Do whatever makes you content,” Obi-Wan snarled, turning away from the window and heading into the refresher. He closed the door behind him. Once inside, away from Qui-Gon’s babysitter, he slowly sunk to the floor. Fingers gripped the roots of his hair as he dropped his head between his knees. _There is no emotion. There is peace. There is no ignorance. There is knowledge. There is passion. There is serenity. There is no chaos. There is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force_.

He repeated the mantra over and over again, trying to steady himself from the emotional outpour his captivity presented. He remembered similar moments, late at night, hiding as he quietly comforted himself by uttering the Jedi Code to help him get through the days ahead. It was no different. Older, less naïve than before, but still dreading of what’s to come.

He must have been inside the refresher far too long because what seemed like a short moment later, a knock berated the door. “Master Kenobi? Breakfast is here and I must insist that you eat something or else Lord Jinn would be most displeased,” came the monotonous voice of TC-11.

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m busy.”

A short pause. “Are you feeling ill, Master Kenobi?” responded TC-11. “Should a medic re-examine you? I’ll page one down.”

Obi-Wan groaned louder. He picked himself off the floor and opened the refresher door where he came face to face with the silver droid. “I’m not hungry nor ill. I only wish to be left alone.”

TC-11 still had the comlink in its hand. “You are looking pale,” TC-11 observed. “I will call down for a medic.”

Right. Of course it wouldn’t listen to him. It didn’t have to obey him at all. Accepting that fact, Obi-Wan tactfully slammed the door in the droid’s face and locked it. He returned to his rightful throne on the floor and repeated the mantra over again.

He needed to clear his mind. Remove all emotions that stirred in the depths of his heart. Once he banished them, he could refocus on escaping his prison, free the slaves and get off the planet before either Qui-Gon or Dooku arrive.

* * *

"Is there nothing we can do?"

It was a question that evoked a helplessness among all. Anakin most of all. Obi-Wan was in trouble and he was stuck in a gorgeous palace, whereas Obi-Wan was most likely chained up in some dank dungeon far below the surface of the planet. The irritation stirring in Anakin vaulted him to move. He got up and paced, a crevice forming between his furrowed eyebrows.

"I won't accept that!" Anakin declared. "I won't sit here and do nothing. He needs our help!"

The Duchess exhaled deeply. Sitting stoic in her seat, she looked every part of a concerned leader. Though, Anakin sensed the anguished that fueled her heart and the longing that kept stretching further and further away. Her outward impression showed no fault lines and gave everyone the outlook that she was well controlled and unshakable. Not Anakin though. He knew her heart was just as broken as his. 

Anakin wasn't stupid. He knew that there was some kind of unspoken love between Obi-Wan and the Duchess. He was also quite aware that he interrupted something that night on Naboo. Obi-Wan looked flushed and overcompensating on trying to look relaxed that he acted more nervous and tensed than calm. 

Satine lifted her gaze from the holo-image of Padmé. "Where would you go, Anakin? No one knows where he went and it will take forever to search the galaxy."

Anakin bit his lower lip in thought. "I know! I know!" he shouted, excitedly. "Serenno! That’s where he is! That’s where they would take him!"

"Serenno?"

Anakin nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Obi-Wan... he told me that was where he used to live. That's where they kept him."

The two women evaluated his theory. "I don't know, Ani. It seems too obvious of a place to take him," Padmé said. "Was there any other places Obi-Wan talked about?"

Anakin had to think really hard. Obi-Wan hardly ever talked about his previous life. It wasn't something discussed. Obi-Wan only ever mentioned two places: Serenno and Coruscant. If he spoke of another place, it was not to Anakin. Obi-Wan kept a tight lid on his own upbringing, claiming he already grew up and didn't need to focus on his past. It was always Anakin's upbringing that concerned him. So, Anakin didn't know much about his father's past other than that he used to be a Jedi and was a prisoner of the Sith before he escaped.

With lacking information, Anakin only shrugged in defeat. "He only ever mentioned Serenno and Coruscant to me."

Satine hummed in thought, recalling her memories. "He was quiet," she murmured. "I don't remember him speaking much about his past. Then again, he was fearful of revealing anything to me that may jeopardize my safety."

Stumped once again, they fell into a frustrated silence. Anakin slunk in his seat, depression cloaking him. He shivered under its covers as his thoughts turned to despair. Deep within his heart, he _knew_ Obi-Wan was in Serenno. Trapped back in that nightmare, surrounded by cruel creatures interested in breaking him to mold him as their perfect assassin.

Anakin buried his head in his arms. “He’s in Serenno. I know it,” he muttered to the darkness that befriended him.

“What about the Trade Federation?” Satine asked above Anakin. “They were working with Qui-Gon, right? Perhaps he’s being held in Cato Neimoidia?”

Padmé shook her head. “Not with the Senate investigating the Neimoidians for their involvement in the illegal invasion.”

Satine’s fingers dug into her temples. A waft of pain overcoming her delicate and proud face. “Then we are lost,” she murmured so quietly. Nearly broken. “We lost him.”

Anakin shot straight to his feet. “No! No!” he arguably repeated, smacking his hand on the table. “We can’t give up! Obi-Wan wouldn’t give up on us. I-I can’t leave him with… with _them_.”

“Anakin—”

“He didn’t leave me with them,” Anakin repeated with a long depressed sigh and his stomach flipping queasily at the dire imagination of Obi-Wan bloodied to a pulp. Near death…

He quickly shook that image out of his mind and reached out to the Force, trailing their bond. He stretched out, longing for the connection he always had with Obi-Wan. But he hit a wall. The bond was drawn into a fog, fallen into the unknown and lost forever.

No. Not forever, Anakin reminded himself. He was going to see Obi-Wan again.

The Duchess came around him, rubbing his back to relieve the strain building in his muscles. She didn’t say anything to him. She stayed close and knowing she was there made Anakin less alone. He silently admitted that he wasn’t happy being left in the Duchess’s care. Not at first. Now? Her standing right beside him or hugging him last night, he was grateful to be with her. Maybe it was because she was connected to Obi-Wan? Satine undergone the same torrent of emotions he felt upon the news of Obi-Wan’s abduction. The pleading, hope, defeat and sadness all roiled around her. And, like Obi-Wan, she shielded her pain with a controlled mien to present a strong front to those they were charged in caring.

Like him.

A chirp interrupted the trio’s sober reflection. Padmé’s blue image looked down, hitting something off to the side. Her eyes shifted as if she was reading something. Then with a nod, she clicked something off. “I have some news,” she said to Anakin and Satine. “Master Yoda requests to meet.”

“Where?” Satine asked.

“At your home planet,” Padmé answered. “He wishes to speak with Anakin and you, Duchess.”

“Why?” hissed Anakin, not particularly happy by the news. After all, he’s a Jedi.

“Master Yoda believes you may be the key into finding Obi-Wan.”

That had Anakin re-evaluate his view on Master Yoda. “How?” he asked, scooting closer to Padmé’s blue holo-image. “What does he need me to do? I’ll do it!”

“I’m not sure,” Padmé confessed. “He won’t tell me more. He asks that his arrival be quiet. The Jedi Order believe he’s heading to Naboo.”

Duchess Satine clasped her hands in front of her. “I shall notified our flight patrols and the guards,” she responded. “What time will he be arriving?”

“Late tonight.”

Satine inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Queen Amidala. I shall make preparations,” she said. “If more news comes your way—”

“I shall pass it onward,” Padmé agreed and she dropped her gaze to Anakin. “Have faith, Ani. Obi-Wan is strong. He’ll prevail.”

That brought a little smile to his face. Obi-Wan didn’t surrender easy. “Thanks Padmé.”

“Stay safe,” Padmé said and their communication ended.

Satine pulled out her comlink and began giving orders for the Royal spaceport of a clandestine arrival. When Satine finished prepping for Master Yoda’s arrival, Anakin asked the question that was nagging him.

“Satine?”

“Yes, Anakin?”

“Do you think Master Yoda is right?” he questioned, nervously kicking his feet up. “That I can find Obi-Wan?”

Satine let out a long, unsteady breath as she twirled the collar of her dress. “From what I’ve witnessed and what Obi-Wan told me, I have great faith that _you_ can achieve whatever you desired,” she said with a gentle smile. “If there is anyone who could find him, I have no doubt it would be you.”

That encouragement lifted Anakin’s spirits. Soaring high in the Force. He saw a burst of light that unclogged the fog, leading him down a path that thawed the ice encasing him. A fledging smile quirked his lips as hope swelled inside him.

He wound find Obi-Wan. Already, Anakin was on Obi-Wan’s trail.

* * *

Rain drenched his cloak and turbulent winds threatened to push him over the sides of the landing pads in Kamino. It was expected. The weather never relented. Always storming.

He already spoke to Lama Su, the head Kaminoan of the cloning factory. She updated him on the clones’ conditioning and training. Qui-Gon was quite pleased with the results and was even more impressed after watching a training session.

“You have done well,” Qui-Gon said to Lama Su as they strolled down the white corridors. Magnificent architecture. A little too modern and white for his taste, but nonetheless, it was artful. “The clones are beyond our expectations.”

“We strive for the best, Master,” Lama Su said. “As requested, the first order is ready to be deployed for action.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon said. “I believe the time is nearing to see the clones in action.” He paused for a moment, letting the soft footfalls take over. “What of the chips? Were they any problems?”

Lama Su shook her pale head. “No problems. All protocols are encoded well.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon stated and checked his chromo. “This was a good inspection. The Jedi are pleased with the results.”

Lama Su bowed her head. “Thanks Master Sifo-Dyas,” she said. “We are honored to be serving the Republic.”

Qui-Gon bowed and returned to the stormy weather. He set up his communication channel and waited for the Council to answer. As expected he was greeted to the sight of Councilors awaiting for news on his investigation.

Qui-Gon did the expected bow. “Masters!” he called over the roaring of the waves below. “I have located the mysterious planet of Kamino. The coordinates were correct.”

Master Windu raised his brows. “What is there?”

Qui-Gon wrapped his billowing cloak tightly around him as another spray of water hit him. “Cloners, Master,” he shouted over the rain. “I met with the Prime Minister, Lama Su. They are apparently the best cloners in the galaxy. From what I have seen, I have no doubt.”

That raised curious and baffled faces from the circle of Councilors. “You engaged with the natives, Qui-Gon?” asked Master Plo Koon.

“I did,” Qui-Gon said. “In fact, they were expecting me.”

“Expecting you?”

“Not me per se, but a Jedi.”

Another round of mystified faces stared back at him. “What did they say?” asked Master Windu, leaning over his seat.

“They wanted to give me a tour of the facilities and to review the clones they created for the Republic.”

“For the Republic?” Master Rancisis quizzically asked.

Qui-Gon nodded, hair flapping in his face. He brushed it aside. “Yes! They created an army of clones for the Republic,” he answered to Master Rancisis shocked response. “Prime Minister Lama Su also informed me that the first battalion are ready for deployment.”

“Ready for deployment,” Master Adi Gallia softly gasped in disbelief. “What do they mean? The Republic has no military ambitions.”

“Qui-Gon?” Master Windu redirected Qui-Gon’s attention. “How many clones have they made for this supposed Republic army?”

“About a million, Master,” Qui-Gon answered. “And they told me if we wish to grow more that it would take time. Masters—I don’t understand. Why would the Jedi order a clone army if the Republic has no need for a standing army?”

“What makes you believe a Jedi order these clones?” quizzed Master Ki-Adi-Mundi.

“Prime Minister Lama Su said that they received the order from Master Sifo-Dyas,” Qui-Gon replied readily, enjoying their dropped faces when he slipped that name. “Masters—did the Council ever authorize Sifo-Dyas to create a clone army?”

“No,” Master Windu answered with no hesitation. “Master Sifo-Dyas had no authorization to order a clone army. Or any army for that matter.”

Qui-Gon feigned confusion. “Then why? Why would Master Sifo-Dyas initiate a clone army?”

Master Windu rubbed his strong jawline in perturbed thought. “The mystery deepens,” he said. “And it needs more unraveling.”

“Shall we confront Master Sifo-Dyas?” Qui-Gon offered, knowing perfectly well that would be impossible. “He may explain all of this.”

The Masters all gravely looked away from him. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible now,” Master Windu said, voice graveling. “Master Sifo-Dyas was killed in an ambush on his way back from Naboo.”

Qui-Gon made sure his arms dropped. “What?”

“They were traveling back from Coruscant when the ship was attacked,” Master Windu said. “There were no survivors. We fear that the culprit was the same assassin your former padawan met on Tatooine.”

Qui-Gon held his silence, bowing his head and screwing his face in distraught. “I-I don’t understand,” he muttered. “What… why? What was Master Sifo-Dyas doing on Naboo?”

And there was where he witnessed the ever stoic Korun fidgeted in his seat. “Qui-Gon… I’m sorry to inform you that Master Sifo-Dyas was in the midst of transporting young Kenobi back to the Temple.”

Again, Qui-Gon put up a performance, selling the grief-stricken master well to the Councilors. “Are you… are you telling me that… that Obi-Wan is… that he is…”

Master Windu shook his head. “No—at least, not that we know of,” he said. “The ships was attacked and everyone was killed, except for young Kenobi. His body was no found among the wreckage. It is assumed that he was captured.”

Qui-Gon held onto his grief, bringing up the painful memories of when Obi-Wan first ran off. It kept his face pained and stricken to fool the Councilors. “I’ll come back at once,” he immediately said to the Council. “No—I can go to Naboo! I’ll help investigate. What about Anakin? Is he—”

Master Windu waved his hand to stop Qui-Gon from rattling. “Master Yoda is already on his way to Naboo as we speak,” he informed Qui-Gon. “He’s to discuss with Queen Amidala and her security in hopes of figuring out the culprit.”

“I can help—”

“No,” Master Windu shook his head. “Stay on your mission. Figure out what Master Sifo-Dyas place in all of this. Find connections to both Kamino and Geonosis. I fear we may our connection with the Force is diminishing.”

Qui-Gon curled his nose in an act of disagreement. He gave a stiff bow. “May the Force be with you.”

“And you as well,” Master Windu replied.

The transmission was cut and Qui-Gon wasted no time in returning to his ship to get out of the storm. He exchanged clothes, tossing the drenched robes and tunics into the bins as he moved to the cockpit. It was time for him to go home.

Everything went according to plan. He and Dooku have shouldered the blame to a dead Jedi Master. Planted evidence against him, which left the dead Shadow unable to defend himself. The mission was a success and Qui-Gon was jovial in his seat from how everything was coming together smoothly.

In his happiness, he commed a number and waited for a monotonous voice to answer.

“Lord Jinn!” came the exclaimed voice of TC-11. “How may I assist you?”

“I want a report,” Qui-Gon told the droid as he shifted the gears of the ship. The ship rocked as it lifted off into the storm. He had to concentrate on piloting through the heavy rain and winds, but he managed it nicely. “How is he? Did he wake up?”

“Master Kenobi is awake.”

Qui-Gon narrowed at the speakers. “And?”

He heard the hesitation in TC-11’s voice. “Well, Lord Jinn, he woke up and then proceeded to barricade himself in the refresher. He won’t come out.”

Qui-Gon released a heavy sigh. “Let me speak with him.”

“Right away, Lord Jinn.” Qui-Gon heard the background noises of TC-11 crossing the room and knocking on what Qui-Gon imagined was the refresher door. There were some muffled voices floating in and out, but he couldn’t detect any words. Finally, TC-11 spoke. “I’m sorry, Lord Jinn. He claims he is busy.”

Busy? “Doing what?” Qui-Gon challenged, squeezing the controllers in a tight chokehold. “How long has he been in there?”

“About three hours now,” answered TC-11. “He won’t come out at all. Not for breakfast or even a medical check-up.”

Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell him to answer this comlink or else someone will suffer for his impertinence.”

More muffled sounds were exchanged, a hiss of door opening and then a terse snap. “What?”

It was good to hear Obi-Wan’s voice, despite the cold anger that carried his greeting. It meant he survived his first day on Serenno and that he was no longer in hibernation. He was told by the medic droids that the hibernation would only last four hours. Yet, Obi-Wan was under far longer than expected, to which the medic droids hypothesized that Obi-Wan’s health was far worse than they original predicated.

It mattered not anymore. He was awake and speaking to him. “I wanted to let you know that I’m on my way home,” he said to the young man. “We have lots to talk about.”

A long silence on Obi-Wan’s end. “Yes. We do.”

A working progress. “I’ll see you soon,” he told Obi-Wan. “And please don’t be difficult with TC-11. Eat the food provided or I’ll have to strap you to a nutrient drip.”

“May as well strap a collar on me as well,” came Obi-Wan’s sardonic tone.

Qui-Gon inwardly groaned. He did not want to discuss this over a comlink. “I’ll see you when I get back,” he told Obi-Wan and he asked to be passed back to TC-11. When he heard the droid’s voice, Qui-Gon continued. “If he refuses to eat or he locks himself in the refresher, send in the guards.”

“Understood, Lord Jinn.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon said as he exited out of Kamino’s atmosphere and into space. “I’ll be home in a few short hours.”

He ended the communication and set up the coordinates for Serenno. Despite the tensed dialogue between him and Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon couldn’t wait to get back home to be with his former padawan. He was honest about the talk. They had a lot of catching up and even more to discuss about Kenobi’s role in this new future.

But, most importantly, the talk about Anakin’s location.

Qui-Gon expected it to be difficult. That Obi-Wan would fight him tooth and nail, refusing to say anything about Anakin. Even his favorite color. Dooku, however, ordered him to use all mean necessary to get Obi-Wan to spill the boy’s hideaway. Qui-Gon would like to push torture at the very end of the list, but if Obi-Wan refused to budge, he would have to do what’s necessary.

For both Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s own sake. Obi-Wan may not see it that way. Not at first at least, but in time, when Qui-Gon could properly explain and show Obi-Wan the truth about everything he and Dooku have been doing, Obi-Wan would have a change of heart and accept what was being given to him.

First, though, Qui-Gon needed to be patient and understanding. He admittedly left Obi-Wan far too long in the dark and it would take some time for Obi-Wan to adjust to the light that Qui-Gon was leading him to. Patience and understanding. If Qui-Gon could do that, then Obi-Wan and he would be all right in the end.


	24. End of Discussion

Obi-Wan stared at the food.

He had no interest in digesting it, let alone touching the spread provided before him. It wasn’t anything fancy. Simple breakfast foods that would have been consumed at the Temple. He did, however, noticed that most were his favorites. Hot cakes, fruit and the sweet bun rolls made only on Corellia. Qui-Gon must have told TC-11 what he liked. He doubted it was the droid who knew all these things about him.

Still, even his favorite foods could not tempt him to eat. He told the droid that he wasn’t hungry. The droid watched him, hoovering like a doting (or annoying) nanny.

“I was instructed that if you did not eat,” came the grating tone of TC-11. “That I am to authorize force.”

Obi-Wan lifted one shoulder up, indifferent to the threat. “Then I cannot be held accountable for my actions if you do so,” he said. “You should know better than to threaten a caged animal.”

TC-11 glowing eyes stared back. “There are no animals in this room.”

Obi-Wan groaned into his hands. What did he do to deserve this treatment? This has been—so far—the worst punishment he’s ever received from Qui-Gon or Dooku.

TC-11 kept chatting away above him. “Perhaps I should call for reinforcements. I don’t really want to do this, but for your own good—”

Obi-Wan was done. He shot up from his seat and using the Force, spun the droid around so that its back faced him. He flipped the switch on the back of the droid’s neck. The droid’s voice groaned out as it slumped in place. Eyes dark.

A little smile lifted Obi-Wan’s cheeks, bringing out his dimples. Why did it take him so long to do that? It would have prevented the headache he was experiencing now. Relieved and overjoyed at the silence gifted to him, Obi-Wan decided to seize the moment. He stole the comlink from TC-11. He quickly punched in the Jedi Temple’s codes.

He heard the faint buzz in the background, a connection coming together. Then, a young voice answered. “Jedi Temple, Padawan Tachi speaking.”

“Siri?”

“Who is this?” came the guarded voice of a fellow peer.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan nearly shouted into the comlink. Happy and relieved. “Obi-Wan Kenobi! Is Master Yoda there?”

“Obi-Wan?” Siri muttered in disbelief.

“Yes! Siri—is Master Yoda there? It’s urgent.”

“Where are you?” Siri asked instead. “Everyone is looking—”

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, willing Siri to patch him through to Master Yoda. “Siri! Master Yoda, please?”

“Master Yoda isn’t here,” Siri replied. “I can patch you to the next available Councilor?”

Master Yoda wasn’t there? Where could he be? “Where is he?”

“Obi-Wan… just tell me where you are!”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his breathing rapidly increasing to short puffs. “I-I can’t tell you that. It’s too dangerous. What is Master Yoda’s personal code?”

“I don’t know it,” Siri answered. “Obi-Wan… let me transfer you to a Councilor.”

“No! Siri! Don’t do that. Don’t,” Obi-Wan begged her. No one on the Council believed him except Yoda. He needed only to speak to him. “Find Yoda’s personal code and tell it to me. Please! Hurry!”

“Obi-Wan—”

Suddenly, her voice was cut off. Obi-Wan listened with bated breath to know what happened. Was he cut off? Did she transfer him? He wasn’t quite sure and he almost began to hang-up when a clipped, posh voice droned out of the comlink’s speakers.

“Obi-Wan,” came the composed voice of Dooku. “You need to listen very carefully, my friend. Padawan Tachi is very worried about you. We all are.”

Obi-Wan’s throat went dry. A hard knot twisting in his stomach. Dooku’s threat was a quick precision. A laughable strike against him. Dooku emerged victorious as he enjoyed the silent victory he brought. To drive home the point, Dooku spoke again. “Please, Obi-Wan, for your own good,” he drawled and Obi-Wan imagined that cruel grin spreading across his face. “Tell us where you are.”

He got the message loud and clear. Obi-Wan ended the connection. Time was now dwindling. Dooku would alert the guards at the palace that Obi-Wan obtained a comlink. He flipped the comlink, pressing in a new set of numbers. He had to hurry and make the connection. Already, he could sense danger ahead.

The ringing drone into his ears as his eyes fixated on the door. Any minute, he would be greeted either by a tender voice or a grating, mechanical voice. He hoped for the former.

The comlink clicked. “This is a private channel,” came the voice that carried him across the stars. “Who is this and state your business.”

“Satine!” Obi-Wan urgently called into the speakers. “It’s—”

Right then, the door slid opened and a squad of battle droids marched into his room. He backed away from the droids, glancing from one end of his prison to the next. There was no escape except through the now opened door and that was seemingly impossible with the amount of droids entering and blasters aimed at him.

The droid closest to him gave an order. “Drop the comlink.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. He could hear her voice. All he needed to do was call out and—

The droid issued a command to the others. The droids all uttered “roger, roger” and moved on him. Only seconds to decide, Obi-Wan regretted what he needed to do. As the droids approached, Obi-Wan used the Force to crush the comlink into pieces. His connection with Satine was gone. But at least now Qui-Gon wouldn’t be able to trace it back to her or Anakin.

That didn’t mean he surrendered. The moment the droids snagged his arms, Obi-Wan resisted. With the Force, he surprised his handlers by throwing them into their squad. The droids screamed in fright as they crashed into their fellow droids, knocking them down like pinballs. It was a mess, but it left a pathway for Obi-Wan to escape his prison.

With a burst of speed, Obi-Wan hopped over the droids and out of the room. He was free!

He sprinted down the corridor, recognizing the excessive décor of someone who prided in wealth. He was still at the palace. A level he didn’t remember. He turned in circles. Lost. He had no idea where to go. Time dwindling. Freedom being picked away with the seconds.

“There he is!”

Obi-Wan found another squad of battle droids coming around the corner. Blaster shots whizzed past him as he twisted out of the deadly bolts. He slid into a new corridor, arms pumping and mind abuzz to find a communication center or at least a turbolift to get him off the floor. Yet, every door he came across was either locked or empty. Nothing to help him.

More droids were entering the floor. Sooner or later, he would be trapped in a corner and his chances of getting out would vanish. He skidded to a halt when he sensed more danger near the end of the corridor. He backtracked and went down another, running past busts of famed leaders and Dooku’s ancestors. To his greatest relief, the corridor ended with a turbolift.

Obi-Wan punched the button multiple times. It wouldn’t make the turbolift come any faster, but it helped release the nervous energy bubbling inside him. As he heard the turbolift groan in action, he spun around to face the oncoming droids. They were funneling down his corridor again, shouting commands and firing bolts at him. Obi-Wan wasn’t certain if those bolts were for stun or for harm, but he had no intention of finding out.

He eyed the bust closest to him and with focus, he raised the bust of its pedestal and tossed it into the oncoming bolt. The bust shattered, sparing Obi-Wan from a hit. He lifted another bust and blocked another droid’s attempt to strike him. He kept throwing up busts for protection as they bursts upon impact with the bolt.

The number of available busts were dwindling, but Obi-Wan hadn’t need to worry. He heard the chime of the turbolift and the sliding of the doors that granted asylum. Obi-Wan threw up one last bust, spiraling it right into the droids as he fell back into the turbolift.

Using the Force, he hurriedly closed the doors to seal him shut.

Obi-Wan exhaled, his muscles loosening up from the built-up tension. He was safe for now. He can recuperate before he had to fight his way out through the front door.

“There you are.”

The voice startled Obi-Wan. He jumped and turned, nearly hitting his back against the doors when he realized he was not alone in the turbolift. The fact he didn’t even _sense_ him was unsettling.

“Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon Jinn stood with his hands inside the sleeves of his robes, looking down at Obi-Wan with no signs of surprise or anger. He acted rather calm as if his prisoner wasn’t attempting escape, but rather joining him to dine. “I was on my way to get you,” he commented. “But I see you already gone ahead and beat me to it.”

Obi-Wan kept himself pressed up against the doors. Not that it would do anything. Qui-Gon was in complete control. There was no evasion possible for Obi-Wan and that sucked all the vitality from his body.

Qui-Gon reached passed Obi-Wan and pressed one of the buttons on the panel. “I’m famished. I’m sure you are too,” he noted upon inspection that Obi-Wan was still on the thin side. “Dine with me. After all, I we do have a few things to discuss.”

And, like that, all of Obi-Wan’s efforts were nullified. He succumbed to surrender that when the turbolift doors reopened, Obi-Wan fell in line. He followed Qui-Gon through the labyrinth of rooms that were reminiscent of Obi-Wan’s adolescent years.

He grimaced when he passed a window and saw the front gates that led out of Dooku’s palace. A cruel mockery at how close he came only to fail. He wanted to touch the window, to feel something other than the cold desolate that was swallowing him up.

They arrived at the dining room and Qui-Gon ushered Obi-Wan away from the window. “Come, Obi-Wan, like I said,” Qui-Gon began as Obi-Wan entered the dining room. “We have much to discuss.”

* * *

Satine clutched her comlink as if to will it to answer her pleas. “Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan? Is that you?”

No response. But, that didn’t mean Satine was hallucinating his voice. She heard him. Quite clear. Like he stood next to her. She heard him utter her name, both a blessing and a curse for each other. What once raised her hopes had them crashing back down.

She answered back, calling out to him, but he never again spoke. What did it mean? Was he captured? Shot? Killed? All the possibilities led her to try again. Still—the comlink gave no response in return.

Their connection killed.

Satine dropped her head in her hands. Hearing him say her name brought a warm relief to her aching heart, but the cold silence only caused a turbulence of the heart _and_ mind. So many scenarios terrorized her. It was unsettling to think of those things happening to the person she—

No. Satine shook her head. None of that was happening to Obi-Wan. Despite Qui-Gon being a Sith, she knew that the former Jedi Master wouldn’t harm Obi-Wan. Not intentionally at least. Qui-Gon would keep him alive. She had to believe that Qui-Gon would spare Obi-Wan’s life.

She needed to tell Queen Amidala and Master Yoda of the transaction that occurred. They would be most interested to know that Obi-Wan had made contact. Even if was brief and relayed nothing to help them find him.

The doors to her throne room opened and a sturdy man walked up to her before bowing deep in respect. “Duchess? You sent for me?”

She did indeed. She got up from the throne and walked down the steps with the comlink tight in her hand. “Master Armett,” she greeted warmly. “I received an odd call earlier today and I need to know if you could possibly trace the number.”

She passed the comlink to the master technician. If anyone could recalculate the device, it would be Master Armett. The head technician examined the comlink with his tiny and observant eyes. “Duchess, I’m afraid it would be impossible for me to trace a number without the proper equipment. Even then, I would need to have the number on for at least a minute to make the complete trace.”

“Are you saying you cannot trace the number?”

Master Armett sighed with shame and defeat. “I’m sorry, Duchess. We do not have the technology to program trace disconnected numbers. Only when they are connected.”

“How about the owner of the number?”

Master Armett hummed in thought. He pulled out his datapad and computed the numbers. There was a small time of tension as the datapad looked through numbers. It beeped a result. Master Armett reviewed it.

“The number is unknown,” Master Armett announced. “Must be a burner or homemade.” He paused, his expression becoming more apprehensive. “Duchess—are you in trouble?”

Satine shook her head. “No, I’m not. But I may believe a friend is,” she said, taking her comlink back from Master Armett. “Thank you for your services.”

Master Armett bowed and took his departure, leaving Satine alone with her guards. What a cruel fate, she thought. To hear his voice, to believe in all hopes that he was okay, only to be snatched away in the dead silence.

She sighed back in her throne. She knew what she had to do. She brought up her holo-communicator and dialed Queen Amidala’s number. She would inform Master Yoda of Obi-Wan’s short communication. What Satine dreaded the most was telling Anakin.

The boy returned to his rooms in another vain attempt to find Obi-Wan through the Force. Satine didn’t have the heart to tell the boy to give up. That it would be impossible for Anakin to feel Obi-Wan presence any further than the moon. Already, the boy dreamed big and Satine didn’t want to deflate his hope. And, as she said before, if anyone was going to find Obi-Wan, it would be Anakin. The boy held possessed stronger gifts than she remembered either Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon having. But, being powerful didn’t mean doing the impossible. There are lines that can never be crossed and Anakin, despite his deeper connection with the Force, would not be able to locate Obi-Wan through such means.

Still, the boy proceeded and would get frustrated on his lack of results. But five minutes later, he tried again. The boy didn’t give up. It was not in his nature. Something Obi-Wan must have passed along.

Satine sighed. Being around Anakin often brought memories of her times with Obi-Wan. The boy acted so much like Obi-Wan. The way he scowled or narrowed his eyes. The way he eats his breakfast—spreading butter left-right-left and diagonally on his toast. Or sometimes the manner in how he talks. It was those tiny moments that got Satine thinking about Obi-Wan or make her do a double-take on the boy. She knew Anakin was not Obi-Wan nor had any blood relation to the man, but the resemblance in their behaviors and emotions were uncanny. It didn’t surprise Satine that many would believe them to be at least brothers, if not father/son.

A ping from the holo-projector brought Satine back to focus. She answered and Queen Amidala’s royal face appeared.

“Good afternoon, Duchess,” Queen Amidala hurriedly said. She already knew this was not a social call. “What news do you have?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi made contact.”

* * *

As the same as before, Obi-Wan didn’t touch any food brought to him. He sat across from Qui-Gon, remaining silent as Qui-Gon dug into his plate. Apparently, Qui-Gon was honest that he was famished. The man nearly licked the plate clean.

The server—an actual female Twi’Lek—removed the dishes, with the exception of leaving a least some fruit behind in case Obi-Wan changed his mind. Obi-Wan had no plans to do so. The server poured Qui-Gon another cup of hot tea before retiring to the kitchens, leaving the former Master/Padawan duo alone.

Obi-Wan fidgeted in his seat. He was trying his best to get comfortable, but found it impossible with his nerves wrung in anticipation of some sort of punishment. He kept checking the doors, half expecting a troop of droids to bust in and gun him down.

Or, for Qui-Gon to unleash a brutal lashing of Sith lightning.

“All your stress and anxieties are affecting my equilibrium, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said over his cup of tea. “Nothing here to fear. You’re safe.”

“A half hour ago, I was nearly blasted to pieces by twenty battle droids,” Obi-Wan commented. “You should reconsider your definition of ‘safe’.”

“The bolts were set for stun,” Qui-Gon replied. “Any personnel here with access to a blaster have it set for stun only.”

“It can still cause a lot of damage,” Obi-Wan countered, idling pushing his fruit around his plate. He knew Qui-Gon wanted something. The conversation on safety was nothing more than a lead up to whatever was on Qui-Gon’s mind. “What do you want?”

Qui-Gon paused in his sip. Grey eyes slid past the steam and straight at Obi-Wan. Carefully, he lowered the cup to the table. He set it aside. Time to talk business. “I thought we could discuss your involvement—”

“I am not involved.”

Qui-Gon gave him a look. “You have a position here,” he continued on as if Obi-Wan didn’t interrupt him. “An _important_ position. Dooku and I always expected you to fulfill it… that is until you ran away.”

For good reason, Obi-Wan thought. He had no desire to join in on their crusade.

“However, your return has made it imperative that we move forward,” Qui-Gon averred. “Everything is coming together. There is a vergence in the Force and it won’t be ignored. You and Anakin—the prophecy—”

Obi-Wan exhaled loudly. Prophecy! Was that all that mattered to Qui-Gon? For a man so focused on the Living Force, his interest in an old prophecy was a hypocrisy of his belief. Besides, prophecies were too complicated. Hard to read. A single word or phrase could mean different things. People lose their minds and lives over readings of such dangerous predication. And it appeared that was what happened to Qui-Gon.

“So that is what I am now?” Obi-Wan rejoined in a tight tone. “A pawn in some sort of prophecy fulfillment? Is that the only reason you even cared to train me?”

Qui-Gon brushed his hair back with both hands, resigned. “Of course not,” he defended. “I picked you as my padawan because I saw a boy with a lot of potential and willingness to do the necessary to help the galaxy.”

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. It wasn’t the response he expected, but he knew better than to accept it as a compliment. He wasn’t the naïve boy like before. He grew up. Saw the galaxy as it was and learned the harsh truths about his former master.

The Sith Lord leaned into the table. “I meant what I said in the Temple,” he said. “You and Anakin have a great destiny ahead. You need to be ready. Both of you.” He paused and Obi-Wan felt a prick against his shields. Obi-Wan reinforced them. Qui-Gon sighed. “You’re place is here, Obi-Wan. You are the last of our lineage. It is your right and destiny to stand beside us. You are—in a sense—our heir.”

The blood in Obi-Wan’s heart froze. There was no circulation flowing through him. A freezing wave crashed into him, leaving him naked and shivering from the impact. It couldn’t be right. He heard incorrectly. He was no heir. Not in blood and not in tutelage. He was not an heir to anything or anyone.

Qui-Gon thought otherwise. “You’ll need additional training along with finishing what we started years ago,” he continued off as if Obi-Wan was not repulsed by such acknowledgment. “I am confident you can catch up. Already you have made vast improvements since you were a teenager—”

Obi-Wan couldn’t bear it. He shot up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table as he glared down at Qui-Gon. “No.”

Qui-Gon didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. He only looked up, matching Obi-Wan with a calmness that irritated Obi-Wan more so than smooth him. “No?”

“I won’t do it,” Obi-Wan clarified for him. “I’m won’t be your apprentice!”

Qui-Gon leaned back in his seat, taking stock of Obi-Wan’s defensive stance. “Sit back down,” he ordered, a flash of exasperation flittering across his face. “I’m only finishing the training that I started with you when you were thirteen.”

“And I remember ending it with the cut of my braid,” Obi-Wan retorted. He had not taken his seat. He stood with his feet planted ready to either flight or fight. “You’re not my master. You haven’t been since I was fifteen.”

Qui-Gon’s face darkened. Cold authority channeled through his narrowed eyes as he slowly rose to his feet, challenging Obi-Wan. “If that is so, then who has been taking care of you for those three years before you ran off?” he dared. “Who has spent days in the dojo with you? Stayed up late into the night to calm you from visions?”

Obi-Wan was not one to back away from a threat. “It wasn’t you!” he nearly shouted. “You left me! You abandoned me! You left me with Dooku! Left me to struggle on my own.” His face was hot. He knew his cheeks were red as he vented out his pent-up anger that laid beneath the surface for far too long. “So… no. You’re not my master. You gave me up and I learned on my own.

“You promised me,” Obi-Wan murmured, going quiet as the anger simmered. “When I was thirteen you promised me that I would become a Jedi Knight. You _swore_! And then you broke that promise. You abandoned me for some delusional Sith ideals!”

Obi-Wan backed away from the table. Standing in Qui-Gon’s presence was too much. Looking at him only brought back painful flashes of his youth. He turned, forgoing it all. “You’re not my master. Nor will you ever be again.”

He headed for the doors. Getting out of the room and away from Qui-Gon became priority. He stomached enough of the Sith’s company to need time to recuperate. But, Qui-Gon had other plans. He moved faster than Obi-Wan expected. He stood in Obi-Wan’s path, becoming a formidable barricade between him and the door.

Then Qui-Gon’s large hands latched onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders. His fingers dug into Obi-Wan’s muscle with no mercy. Obi-Wan stiffened and hissed at the painful pinch, but he remained sturdy enough to bear the assault.

“You ungrateful brat!” Qui-Gon spat with barely concealed warning in his voice. “Everything I’ve done was for _you_!”

Obi-Wan returned the glare. “I never asked you to do this! I asked you to teach me to become a Jedi.”

Qui-Gon didn’t loosen his death grip. “And such request was overturned in favor of another promise.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up. “What promise?”

The Sith Lord spoke out of turned. He eased his grip on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, but he didn’t let go entirely. He held onto him as he turned away, the Force churning. “It does not matter.”

“It matters to me!” Obi-Wan declared. A single breath. Rising and falling in a cycle of rebellion and hurt. “So, what promise? What promise required you to abandon your oath to me?”

Qui-Gon officially let go of Obi-Wan. He dropped his arms to his side. Crevices dug into his forehead, a weary sigh escaping his lips. A sigh of surrender and acceptance as he turned a shoulder to Obi-Wan. “A promise that required a great sacrifice,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. But this promise was more important. I need to fulfill it. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to instruct you.” Qui-Gon looked back at Obi-Wan, eyes pleading to be forgiven. To let him make up his mistakes. “Let me finish your training Obi-Wan. We can complete your training—together.”

Too many broken promises and words to heal the rift between them. Obi-Wan could not accept Qui-Gon’s brand of forgiveness nor his offering. He saw through the temptation and knew better. He shook his head, stepping back and away from Qui-Gon’s reach.

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head, drawing in a shuddered breath. It was all too little and too late. “I won’t be your apprentice.”

They stood at an impasse. Rejection and hurt building between them into a static tension that could be felt miles away. An eruption on the verge of igniting. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how Qui-Gon would react to his rejection. Or even it go through to Qui-Gon’s thick skull. But, Obi-Wan had to prepare for violent reaction. He kept his stance fortified, his shields strengthening to be unbreakable. Whatever happened next, he would be ready.

All traces of pleading vanished from Qui-Gon. Replaced with stoic determination. He shrugged away the warmth of old memories and took up the position of man who garnered no truce. Qui-Gon folded his arms back into the sleeves of his robe, eyes peering down at Obi-Wan with an intensity that left Obi-Wan feeling unsettled.

“Your permission is not required,” Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan not too kindly. “You are my padawan. You’ll do as you are told. End of discussion.”

* * *

Mace stood in the center of the room, shaking his head in exhaustion. It had been a long night of investigation and reviewing the evidence Qui-Gon provided. It was disconcerting how a shroud of darkness had suddenly clamped over them in the span of two weeks. Kenobi's reappearance initiated this sudden cold front. That much Mace knew. Whatever was happening, it connected with Kenobi and Skywalker. Their emergence from the shadows have brought the dark tendrils to their front door.

"Would you care for a glass?"

Mace pulled away from his thoughts and turned to look back at Dooku. "I'm good."

"Tea, perhaps?"

Mace shook his head. "I'm sorry, my friend," he apologized for his lack of engagement. "This predicament with Kenobi and Kamino has clouded my thoughts."

Dooku reclined in his seat, holding the stem of his wine glass as he pondered the circumstance surrounding them. "It has clouded the Force as well."

Mace sighed. "Did the technicians find anything useful?"

"I'm afraid not," Dooku relayed. "Kenobi hung up before a trace could be established and the number he used was unknown. Both I and Padawan Tachi tried to get him to tell us where he was, but he only wanted to speak to Master Yoda."

Mace stroke his chin. Master Yoda strange behavior recently bespoke of hidden knowledge. Kenobi's latest transmission all but pointed at Master Yoda being aware of mechanization. What confused him was the secrecy. Master Yoda said little to the Council about his reasoning to release both Kenobi and Skywalker. He didn't even wait for the Council's approval. He only informed them of his decision after they were transferred to Naboo's service.  And now, he headed to Naboo to counsel with the Queen on recent events. 

"I find it odd and worrisome," Dooku continued. "It is clear Master Yoda is hiding something. Why else would he go over the Council and execute an executive order?"

Mace's jaw hardened at even the mere suggestion that Yoda was purposefully blinding the Council. A Jedi has no private affair and to even think Master Yoda was involved in the rapid succession of darkness was laughable. Grandmaster Yoda was too Light to be consumed by the Dark side. "Whatever Master Yoda is doing," Mace stated firmly as to assure no objection, "it is for the good of the Republic. If Kenobi is entwined with it all, then Master Yoda has his reasons.”

“So you don’t find it odd that Master Yoda has kept the Council in the dark on his dealings with a Jedi fugitive?” Dooku pressed onward, taking another sip of his wine.

Mace rubbed his forehead, a headache growing. “I find it odd, but like I said,” he glanced over to his friend, “Master Yoda would never betray the Order. Whatever he is doing, it’s for the betterment of the galaxy. I have faith in that.”

Master Dooku inclined his head in acceptance to the answer. “Master Yoda is a tricky Jedi. I should know. He was my master.”

“Do you believe him to be a traitor?”

Dooku paused, looking into the distance as he thought. “No. Not a traitor. But an old fool,” he said before he humored Mace with a smile. “His leadership is questionable. Years as a Grandmaster and all he has done is allowed the Senate to meddle into Jedi affairs and kept the Jedi complacent despite the decay in the Republic.”

Mace groaned inward. He almost forgotten Dooku’s political ideals and his scornful views of the Republic. “You know the Republic is vital in keeping peace and order in the galaxy,” Mace reminded his friend. “Without, it would only lead to chaos.”

“Would it?” Dooku challenged. “Already it is in chaos and the Jedi have yet to do anything because the Senate has placed a leash on us.”

Mace cocked a curious brow to Dooku. “Be mindful of your emotions, Master,” he warned. “Release it into the Force.”

Dooku huffed at such statement. “I’m quite well aware how to release my emotions, Master Windu,” he rebuffed. “But my thoughts have nothing to do with emotions. It’s fact. The Senate has been using the Jedi as attack dogs! It’s disgusting and humiliating.”

“We do what is required to keep order and peace.”

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Dooku dismissed with a wave.

Mace drew himself together. He understood Dooku’s interpretation of the relationship between the Senate and the Order. It was a complicated relationship. A give and take that didn’t often equal out. Mace recognized corruption in the Senate and other parts of the government, but he still held onto faith that the Republic could survive. If the Jedi remained, then so would the democracy and the Republic.

But Dooku’s words concerned him. There was a hint of repugnance the senior Jedi had toward the Republic. It was not unlike Dooku to make a snide remark against the Republic or to reject involvement, but his lack of tact delivery of his statements disturbed Mace’s solace.

Perhaps a cup of tea would soothe out his nerves. “If you are still offering,” Mace said as he sat up in his seat. “I would appreciate a cup of tea.”

Dooku examined Mace from where he seated. But then, he rose up and moved to the kitchen. “I’m afraid I only have sapir.”

“That will do,” Mace replied and Dooku entered the kitchen, leaving Mace some quiet solitude.

Mace closed his eyes and meditated, drawing the Force around him. It was turbulent. A vibration that gave no sign of ending. It disturbed the peace. His peace. An inching that provoked him to move, to do something. As for what, Mace didn’t know. The past few days he spotted more shatterpoints than ever. Most of them connected to Kenobi and Skywalker. Their bond being the biggest threat.

As he ruminated on it, he felt another jab in the Force. Mace winced, reaching to tenderly massage his forehead. He got up, moving to join Dooku in the kitchen in hopes that the smell of the sapir tea would ease the Force into a more rhythmic vibe.

Blinded by the clouding of the Force, Mace bumped into Dooku’s lower table and knocked its contents over. Sighing, he picked up the objects. Never had he been so engrossed to miss an obstacle in his path. He hoped he didn’t break anything.

As he dropped the last object on the table, his finger slipped on a switch and a blue holo-image of a woman zapped up. Her sharp eyes pierced Mace to the core as her recorded voice televised all in the room to hear. “Master—the Geonosians have assured me that you will receive the last installments by the end of the next week,” said the woman, her bald head glistening under the blue hue. “They are requesting that you pay double on the account of the damages Kenobi made to their factory floor.”

Mace froze. Did she just mentioned Kenobi? Mace studied the holo-image as the woman continued her recording. Her appearance resembled that of a Dathomirian female. In fact, almost every detail about her matched up with the assassin Kenobi and Skywalker faced on Tatooine. But, what was she doing contacting Dooku? And why did she addressed Dooku as Master?

It didn’t make any sense and yet, Mace’s mind was slowly clicking the information together. Tatooine. Geonosis. Kenobi.

Mace eyed her lightsabers on her waist. Two dual, curved blades that resembled Dooku’s own lightsaber. Her message repeated again at the start. Master. Dooku had no padawan. Not that he was aware of at least. And Geonosis. Qui-Gon said the assassin wasn’t on Geonosis. Yet, the message was clear that the assassin was located on Geonosis.

It didn’t make sense.

And, yet it did at the same time.

Mace looked beyond the message. Everything he knew. Everything he just discovered began connecting. Every piece fit together and formed a picture Mace could no longer brush off or ignore. His own shatterpoint broke.

Kenobi was right all along.

Dooku and Qui-Gon were Sith Lords.

He had to warn—

His midsection inflamed and burst. Fire burned his intestines and skin blistered as pain erupted. Gasping in short, hollowed breaths, Mace tentatively looked down to see a red blade sticking out from his body. A red blade!

“Snooping through others’ belongings,” came Dooku’s cool and refined voice, “is a trait I cannot tolerate.”

Mace, cringing through the pain, twisted his head to look at Dooku in the eye. “Y-You?”

Dooku smirked at Mace’s betrayed pain. “I kept telling you Master Windu,” he said. “The Jedi Order is too complacent. Too easily blinded of the truth in order to remain ignorant of the problems around them.

“I’m going to change all of that,” Dooku claimed as he twisted the blade. Mace cried out, wincing as more flesh was melted off him. “I’m going to destroy the Republic and tear down the Order, rebuild it into what it was meant to be.”

Mace was a dead man. He knew it and so, with one last chance to warn the others, he reached out for Master Yoda’s presence.

Dooku sensed his attempt and effectively ended it with a slash of his red blade crossing Mace across the chest. Mace choked. His last breath lodged in his throat as he dropped like a broken doll. Eyes wide and glossy. Nothing but fear left behind in them.

After all, Mace feared the future of his fellow Jedi.

For he brought them to a doomed state and abandoned them to a terrible fate as he entered the Cosmic Force, free of burdens and pain.

Yes, he feared for his fellow Jedi. But, more importantly, he feared for Kenobi and Skywalker.

* * *

Master Yoda had ignored Master Windu’s calls all day. He couldn’t make contact with his friend and fellow Council member. He couldn’t let Mace Windu know of the deception and that he was arriving on Mandalore instead of Naboo.

Queen Amidala passed on the message that Obi-Wan had made contact with Satine, but it was only brief. She couldn’t make a trace and Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. It was disappointing to hear that Obi-Wan failed to extend any information to them, but it warmed Yoda’s heart to know he was alive and fighting. The fact he got a hold of a comlink told Yoda that Obi-Wan wasn’t ready to surrender.

As his ship landed quietly on the hanger floor, he immediately felt Anakin’s presence in the Force. It was a massive hurricane, churning in waves of frustration, loneliness and fear. Yoda sighed heavily. He needed to teach the boy only releasing such dangerous emotions into the Force. Unhealthy and not helpful in times like these.

Master Yoda inched down the ramp, surveying his environment. Mandalore, indeed, prosper after Duchess Satine took up seat in the royal palace. It was quite a lovely sight to behold after centuries of wars and deaths that led to the planet’s decay. It was heart-warming to see a bleak place become a beautiful sight of survival and compassion.

He would need to offer his congratulations to the Duchess.

As he reached the end of the ramp and spotted the speeder awaiting to transfer him to the palace, he felt a dark quiver come across his heart. He stopped. His claw reached for his heart. He wasn’t dying; yet, it felt almost as if his own life was cut down. A premonition? Yoda thought not. He closed his eyes, reaching out when he felt a fluttered of another presence. He recognized it at once as Master Windu.

Then, the flutter faded and dropped over into a void. It was gone. Vanished.

Master Yoda released the pent-up air inside him.

He was too late.

The Sith Lords have struck.

Master Yoda turned to his driver. “Hurry, we must,” he told his driver as he sped over. His old age fooled the drivers into shock at how fast he ran. Yoda typically enjoyed the show, but not at the moment. “Struck, the Sith Lords have. Death. Destruction. Coming, they are.”

The driver, not quite understanding Yoda’s words, nodded his affirmation and hit the accelerator. They pelted out of the hanger, down the empty lanes and straight to the palace.

Master Yoda sunk in his seat, sorrowed as he mourned his friend.

Mace Windu was dead.


	25. Help Me

Duchess Satine sat rigid on her throne. Eyes strained from lack of sleep and overworked nerves. The past few days felt like years. Already she bore resemblance to those much older than her. She drifted out subtle sighs as a way to relax, but her mind plagued her with repeated words.

_Satine!_

She closed her eyes as she exhaled. Obi-Wan’s voice called for her. A desperate plea and a fallen response.

_Satine!_

A little shake of her head wouldn’t rid the voice from her. Obi-Wan called for help and she lost her chance to find him. She busied herself by smoothing out her dress that there were no wrinkles in sight. No disturbance in the fabric at all.

That was until the guards announced their late-night guest. She rose to her feet as the doors parted and the small, senior Jedi Master tottered down the carpeted pathway, leaning heavily on his cane. Soft pats murmured in the throne room as the Jedi Master finished his walk. Beady brown eyes looked up with rings around his weary eyes. A man of a certain age, indeed.

Duchess Satine stepped down the stairs. “Master Jedi,” she greeted. “I hope your journey was fair.”

The old Jedi stopped and rested both claws on top of his gimer stick. “Afraid it was not, am I. Struck, the Dark Side has,” he relayed to the Duchess with a grave tone. “Dead, another is.”

“Who?” Satine immediately asked, clutching her hands close to her heart.

“A Jedi,” Master Yoda said. “Moving ahead, the Sith Lords are. Lose any more precious time we cannot.” The green Jedi scanned the room. “Young Skywalker, where is, hmm?”

“He’s in his room,” Satine replied. “Where he usually is. He’s been trying to reach Obi-Wan through the Force all day.”

Master Yoda’s ears perked. “Any luck?”

Satine shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said and paused. “However, I did make a connection with Obi-Wan.”

Master Yoda nodded. “Yes. Informed me, Queen Amidala has,” he said. “Did Kenobi say anything, hmm?”

“Unfortunately no,” she answered, disheartened. “He only managed to say my name before the connection was lost.”

Master Yoda hummed. “Alive, he is alive. For now. Change, it could.”

And that made Satine’s stomach morph into lead and feeling ill. “You believe they would kill Obi-Wan? After searching for him?”

“Deceit and lies. The ways of the Sith, those are,” Master Yoda informed the Duchess. “No compassion, there is. No friendship. Only power.”

Satine looked away, her fingers resting just below her lip as the tip caressed one of the last places Obi-Wan kissed her. “Then what do they want with him? If they are only after power, what could they possibly need him for?”

Master Yoda’s shoulders drooped as he exhaled heavily. His ears fell back, the strings of white hair sticking out in different places. “To control young Skywalker they need him. They recognize Skywalker's unique gifts. Use their attachments to one another to control them, will they,” he theorized to the Duchess. “Complicated, the Sith Lords are. Muddled, their compassion is. Twisted, their love is.

“Nonetheless, in much danger than ever, Kenobi is. Find him, we must,” Master Yoda concluded. “To speak to young Skywalker I need.”

Satine agreed and, with her private security, she led Master Yoda through the palace. They didn’t say a word to each other. Satine didn’t think she could stomach speaking about the trials Obi-Wan faced. She was far more content with silence.

They reached Anakin’s door and Satine gave three taps. She heard movement on the other side and seconds later, Anakin’s small form stood in front of the doorway. His blue eyes rounded on Master Yoda’s appearance before squinting at the Master Jedi with accusation and distrust. He scooted back, giving him the distance needed to shield himself from the Master Jedi.

Master Yoda took no offense. “Evening, Skywalker,” he said to the boy. “You, how are, hmm?”

Anakin lifted his shoulder. Not eager to engage in small talk. “Padmé said you think I can find Obi-Wan. How?”

Anakin wasted no time in pleasantries. To him, the past two days was already a long wait. Master Yoda shuffled into the room, eyeing the accommodation with indifference. He’s seen far better and far worst places to live. He surveyed of the room ended when he peered at Anakin. “Eager to run where even angels fear to tread, are you? Of learning, a dangerous way. Recklessness ends one way.”

Satine stayed beside Anakin, a show of support to the boy in case he needed a clutch. Anakin stayed close to the Duchess as Master Yoda moved to one of the cushioned seats and sat. “To answer your question—a solution, I may have,” the wise Jedi said to the boy. “With Kenobi you share a Force bond. Strong one. If led carefully through the Force, to locate our missing friend it may be possible for your Force bond.”

Anakin scrunched his face. “I’ve been doing that!” he said, heatedly. “It’s not working. I’ve tried.”

Master Yoda huffed, not amused by Anakin’s temper. “Do or do not. There is no try,” he chided Anakin. “Also, here to help Master Yoda was not. Of the Force I know many things and many ways.”

Obi-Wan did once say the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order was nearing 900 years old. It didn’t surprise Satine that the Master Jedi knew more about the mysterious Force. If anyone could assist Anakin, it would be him. Satine’s limited knowledge of the Force left her helpless when it came to Anakin.

“Then you can help?” she asked, seeking affirmation of her wishes. “You can find Obi-Wan?”

A small pause quietened the room. The Grandmaster of the Order confirm with a small nod. “Faith it can be done, have I.  Only because of Skywalker's and Kenobi's bond.”

And Satine saw Anakin’s spirits rise within him. His eyes brightening up like a firework show. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked. “Let’s do it now!”

Master Yoda shook his head. “Strong enough you are not. Tired and hungry, you are,” he debriefed his observation of the boy. “You need rest. To be at your peak in order to undergo such a trial you need.”

“I’m okay. Honest!”

Master Yoda grunted. “The root to many problems, impatience is. Force answers to come, you cannot.  Only do it with a clear mind, you can,” he advised to Anakin. “More than strength and passion, patience and time do.”

Master Yoda hopped off his seat, slowly moving to the doors. “Sleep! In the morning, we shall begin.”

Anakin looked mutinously. “He needs our help now! They could kill him by morning.”

Satine’s heart fainted. Killed? Was it possible? She reflected her time with Obi-Wan back on Mandalore, remembering his and Qui-Gon’s interactions. It was clear there were tensions between them, but Satine thought it was due to the constant running and lack of proper diet. But, Qui-Gon did stay close by Obi-Wan’s side when he wasn’t running off on some scouting trip or whatnot and he seemed proud of the younger Jedi. But, with Obi-Wan’s revelations, Satine’s memories needed revaluations.

Still, she couldn’t imagine Qui-Gon killing Obi-Wan. Not after he spent all that time searching for him. Torture—yes. Most likely. Murder? Despite the atrocities that occurred, Satine doubted Qui-Gon would kill Obi-Wan.

Right?

The Grandmaster eased her worries with a snort. “Kill him, hmm? No. Too attached to him, Qui-Gon is,” he said as he reached to the door. “Little time to recuperate before we begin, we have.”

 Satine turned to her guards. “Please escort Master Yoda to a private bed chamber.”

Two of her guards nodded at once and went on either side of the Master Jedi to direct him to the guest chambers. Satine stayed behind with Anakin as the boy fumed at having to be patient. Satine understood the feeling. She would like nothing more than to help Obi-Wan, but the Grandmaster was right. If they were to fully execute a rescue, they needed the proper rest.

“Master Yoda is right,” Satine said to Anakin. “A bit of sleep will do you some good.”

The boy’s face was hardened, displeased and bitter. “I’m not tired.” He marched away, sitting down back in front of the window. A position Satine knew to be meditation.

The Duchess sighed and strolled over to the window, looking out at the city. The lights were so beautiful. Sparkling in contrast against the harsh background caused by constant civil wars. Satine looked on as if it was cleansing moment. A bright hope. These lights have cast the darkness away. It took time, but it worked out.

And it will again.

Satine sat down next to Anakin. His eyes were closed, pinched shut as he concentrated. Satine didn’t know what was going on. A Jedi thing—but she knew better than to leave him in such an unhinged state. She sat quietly. Not a word or a single movement. She only watched and waited. Finally, minutes later, Anakin’s eyelids pulled up, revealing a pair of sad, blue eyes.

“I won’t see him again, will I?”

Satine shuddered a sigh. “I once had those thoughts too,” she confided. “When Obi-Wan left Mandalore—and me—I assumed I was never going to see him again. That seeing him walking up the ramp would be my last memory.

“As you now know, it wasn’t my last memory of him. He returned,” Satine said, ending in a smile. “I have hope that you and Obi-Wan will be reunited. Soon.”

“I’m still worried,” Anakin confessed. “He’s all that I have.”

“That’s not true,” Satine countered. “I’m here. You also have Queen Amidala. Even Master Yoda.”

Anakin perked up on hearing the Queen. “Really?”

“Of course,” Satine assured him and couldn’t hide her growing smile. Oh, young Anakin was smitten with the Queen of Naboo. Young crushes. “We are here for you… and Obi-Wan.”

Anakin curled himself close, knees pressed to his chest. “I’m afraid.”

“I know.”

Anakin darted a look to her, a rise of understanding forming between them. “I know too.”

Satine blinked, not quite understanding his meaning. “Obi-Wan is a dear friend of mine,” she quickly recovered. “I worry for his well-being as well.”

“Not as friends,” Anakin said, sleepily, but strangely alert. “You love him.”

Satine involuntarily flinched and felt her cheeks warm in both embarrassment and truth. Anakin noticed. “Once we free him,” Anakin went on, “maybe you two can get married? Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. I know he likes you too.”

A lump was caught in Satine’s throat, choking her. Heart hammering against her ribcage as she digested Anakin’s words. Blazes! She couldn’t be discussing this. Not now anyway. And… never again. “Let’s not jump ahead, Anakin,” she decided to say. “If we are to help Obi-Wan, we both need to sleep.”

Satine got to her feet, expecting Anakin to follow. The boy stayed seated, but his eyes trailed up after her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you and Obi-Wan were—”

Satine immediately cut him off. “Don’t apologize, Anakin,” she said as her heartaches over memories. “As I said, Obi-Wan and I are friends. Nothing more. Now… you look tired. Get some sleep. You and I have a lot of work tomorrow.”

Feeling either remorseful or tired, Anakin agreed to Satine’s command. He got up from the floor and ready for bed. Satine, like the previous night, stayed by his side until he finally drifted to an uneasy sleep. Nonetheless, the boy was asleep.

Satisfied, she tip-toed out and headed to her own chambers to privately ruminate her loss love.

* * *

Dooku destroyed all evidence he could not take with him. Everything from flimsi and holo-recordings were destroyed. Both his and Qui-Gon’s apartments were basically empty. They had set up precautions and systems in case plans were derailed earlier than predicated, and now the Council would find nothing to use against him or Qui-Gon.

Once all documentations were deleted, Dooku contacted the politicians he had in his pocket. He passed the coded order and each politician affirmed their cooperation. Once it was all settled, Dooku swiftly departed from the Temple. Someone would have found the body by now. Dooku shielded Mace Windu’s attempt to warn anyone of his death with a powerful shield. But, alas, Dooku was certain some of it trickled into the Force. His body would be discovered and the revelation of what he and Qui-Gon were would become known.

Dooku didn’t care too much. It was earlier than planned, but they were ready. Qui-Gon succeeded in capturing Kenobi and torturing the young man into submission. Soon, they’ll have the boy’s location and with good training, Dooku will have a weapon to defeat the Order and conquer the Republic.

As he piloted his starship through Coruscant’s skies, he contacted Qui-Gon to give him the news. It took a while for Qui-Gon to answer and when he did, he looked disheveled and aggravated. Kenobi did something.

“Master,” Qui-Gon addressed with a stiff bow. “I wasn’t expecting your call.”

“Nor was I expecting to call you,” Dooku agreed. “Plans have changed again.”

“What?”

“Mace Windu knows.”

Qui-Gon’s image fluttered as his face fell in surprise and shock. “How?”

“He got ahold of a Ventress’s recording,” Dooku said, casually. “He was snooping and you know how I detest such traits.”

Qui-Gon took a beat. “You killed him.”

“Naturally,” Dooku said. “Couldn’t very much have him alive and alert the Temple at once.” Dooku pushed in the coordinates to Serenno. “But, the Council will learn shortly, if not, now. I destroyed all evidence and alerted our friends in the government. Nothing has changed too much. Our agenda was only slightly pushed forward.

“You still have Kenobi?” Dooku asked, watching the blue image of Qui-Gon nod. “Good. I’ll need a word with him when I arrive. Once again, he nearly ruined our position when he comed the Order. I was lucky to be nearby to intercept it.”

“The Force was on our side,” Qui-Gon agreed. “As for Obi-Wan, I already handled his punishment. There is no need for you to do so.”

Dooku peered at the blue holo-image. He wasn’t surprised by Qui-Gon’s attempt to protect his former padawan. Qui-Gon always had a soft spot for Kenobi. It was one of his weaknesses. A weakness Dooku gladly exploited to keep Qui-Gon on his side of the war.

Dooku sighed. It’s not that he found Kenobi to be pathetic. Quite the opposite. He was proud to call Obi-Wan his grandpadawan. He showed a lot of skill and intelligence. Traits Dooku admired and appreciated. He also curried the same interests as Dooku, which led to fascinating—if not violate—discussions that ended on a good note or with a bolt. And, every now and then, Dooku enjoyed one of their games of Dejarik. Kenobi demonstrated a strategic mind that would make him very useful in the war to come.

Of course, that also meant subduing Kenobi’s more _difficult_ traits. Once they got Obi-Wan to submit, then Dooku didn’t see a problem with keeping Kenobi. In fact, he was certain he would be proud to call Kenobi an ally. Until then, though, Kenobi needed to break. His rebellious attitude would not be tolerated and Dooku sought to ensure it.

Qui-Gon may have punished the young man, but Dooku was certain it did nothing to curb Kenobi’s behavior.

“Nonetheless, I would still like a word with him,” Dooku stated in a way that claimed for no argument. “Has he given you Skywalker’s location yet?”

Qui-Gon shuffled. Either he was upset for Kenobi’s sake or because he failed. “Obi-Wan is being a bit difficult at the moment.”

Or it was both. Dooku shook his head. “I’ll be there in a few hours. If Kenobi doesn’t reveal where Skywalker is hiding, then I shall have a go.”

“That won’t be necessary, Master,” Qui-Gon said. “I’ll talk to Obi-Wan again. If he doesn’t let up, I… I have a way to get it from Obi-Wan without his consent.”

“Good!” Dooku said, happy to see that Qui-Gon was taking more strict actions with his former padawan. “I’ll be there shortly. Once I arrive, set up the shield generators to protect Serenno. We may get unwanted visitors.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I will instruct the men. May the Force be with you, Master.”

“And you as well,” Dooku said and he ended the call.

Situated and ready, Dooku pulled down the lever. The stars stretched and he took off into hyperspace, leaving the Coruscant behind.

An hour after he left Coruscant, Master Plo Koon arrived at Dooku’s apartment to ask a question. It was there he discovered Mace Windu’s body, a hole made by a lightsaber pierced in his chest. Master Koon knew it was too late to save the revered Jedi, but he called the healers, instructed Cin Drallig and his Temple guards to search the premises for Master Dooku and then called for an emergency Council session.

It appeared they were wrong all along.

* * *

Obi-Wan returned to his room and stayed seated at the table. He had a book out in front of him. Half-reading. Half-thinking. He spent too much of the day under interrogation. In fact, he was quite mentally exhausted after batting away Qui-Gon’s attempts to get him to open up. And, of course, the fact he had to keep his mind well shielded when Qui-Gon demanded Anakin’s location.

Obi-Wan stayed mute on the matter, refusing to give Qui-Gon anything that may lead him to Anakin. Qui-Gon pleaded and tried to reason with Obi-Wan about how dangerous it was for Anakin to be alone. Obi-Wan knew quite well how dangerous it was to leave Anakin, but it would be far more dangerous to have Anakin on Serenno.

Too frustrated and seemingly losing temper, Qui-Gon ordered the guards to return him to his room. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile after leaving Qui-Gon’s presence. He finally had the time to wind down and to be alone.

Night overtook the day. A brilliant shade of midnight blue covered his window and Obi-Wan remembered the night he and Anakin camped out in a meadow for the night. Anakin kept asking him about which star was what and dreaming about visiting all of them. The boy had high goals.

But, Anakin wasn’t with him and Obi-Wan was trapped indoors, unable to feel the soft breeze one might feel if ventured outside.

He sighed and realized he should probably get some sleep. He needed to renew his energy for the next battle. Obi-Wan got up from his chair when the door to his prison swiped open and Qui-Gon’s tall form stepped through the threshold.

Change in plans. Obi-Wan forgone sleep, rebuilt his heavy shielding and took up his stance. A new battle has already started.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon began and hearing his voice again was like a knife twisting deeper into Obi-Wan’s side. A tremble shuttered him, but Obi-Wan didn’t know if it was the Force or himself. Qui-Gon edged closer. “Before I ask, I need you to think long and hard before responding.”

Oh no. Dread settled at the bottom of his stomach. He knew what question Qui-Gon was going to ask. An interrogation that Obi-Wan didn’t want to have again. “My head hurts,” Obi-Wan lied, eyes darting to the bed. “Can this interrogation wait? I’m too tired to make any life-death decisions.”

Obi-Wan moved to the bed, but a hand on his elbow brought him back in front of Qui-Gon. “This cannot wait, young one,” he said, pushing Obi-Wan back into his chair. “It’s important you answer the question. The galaxy depends on it.”

Obi-Wan did not want to be sitting. He needed to get up. Exercise away the nervous energy building up inside him. Qui-Gon noticed for he closed his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to settle the shake, but he pressed onward. He asked the dreaded question. “Obi-Wan—I need to ask you again. Where is Anakin?”

The million credit question. That was all Qui-Gon wanted to know. Anakin’s location. Where is the boy they found on Tatooine who may be the prophesied Chosen One? Where is the boy that would become our weapon to bring down the Republic, the Jedi Order and kill millions of innocents? Obi-Wan knew quite well where Anakin was. He was somewhere safe. Happy—at least he hoped—and away from all this dark, convoluting nature.

“I have no idea,” Obi-Wan easily lied.

“I think you do,” Qui-Gon said, voice quiet but stern. “Tell me Obi-Wan. For Anakin’s own safety and yours, where is he?”

“I don’t know!” Obi-Wan repeated again, louder in case Qui-Gon missed the other denials he issued. He pushed Qui-Gon back from him, finally able to stand up. “What makes you think I would tell you if I did? I won’t betray Anakin! Not like you did to me.

“So, let’s stop wasting time,” Obi-Wan finished, now officially done with these barrage of questions. “I won’t say anything. Not to you or Dooku.”

Qui-Gon was silent for minute or two and Obi-Wan wondered if he actually got through to Qui-Gon. But then, any soft expressions on Qui-Gon’s face hardened. A cool, detached look in his eyes told Obi-Wan enough to know that Qui-Gon wasn’t pleased with his rejection. There was no anger. Only a saddening reluctance.

“Come with me,” Qui-Gon finally said to Obi-Wan as he headed back to the door.

Obi-Wan could have challenged him, but figured it was best to not keep poking the Sith Lord. He followed Qui-Gon down the corridors. Two magna guards followed, trapping Obi-Wan on both sides. Not that Obi-Wan was going to make a run for it. Qui-Gon would have stopped him.

The field trip didn’t last long. They arrived outside a door and Obi-Wan imagined a dojo inside. Perhaps Qui-Gon was going to try bargaining since pleading and reasoning didn’t make him confess Anakin’s location. Yet, Obi-Wan noticed there was some reluctance on Qui-Gon’s part to open the door. But it fluttered away as quickly as it came and Qui-Gon opened the door.

It slid wide open, giving Obi-Wan a good view of what was inside.

Obi-Wan felt his insides begin to rot. An icy frost overcome him as he took one look at the room. He recognized the sterile squalor before him. It wasn’t as identical as the few he had the unfortunate pleasure to visit, but it was no doubt a medical center. He eyed the equipment that shrouded around a strapped surface. All pristine and cleaned and ready.

Obi-Wan took a step back. Images flashed through his mind. Images of being tortured and trapped by Jenna Zan Arbor. Phantom pains made Obi-Wan winced in remembrance of his time at the evil doctor’s hands. Right before Qui-Gon and Dooku rescued him.

All of it—right down to even the equipment—resembled that same testing laboratory Obi-Wan was held against his will.

Obi-Wan glanced up to Qui-Gon. “Qui-Gon,” he managed to splutter out, “what… what is this?”

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. “I think you know.”

He did. Obi-Wan knew very well. He fell back again, but stopped by the magna guards. They snatched his arms, their grip so tight that Obi-Wan felt bruises forming underneath the iron. “No… no!” Obi-Wan pleaded as Qui-Gon stepped aside to let the guards drag Obi-Wan into the room. “No! No—Qui-Gon! Qui-Gon please!”

Obi-Wan put up a fight. He swung his body and yanked his arms to free himself. He lashed out with his legs, trying his best to trip the guards to fall over. It was unsuccessful and he drew closer to the gurney.

He craned his head over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. “Qui-Gon!” he pleaded, hoping his distress would hit something in the Sith Lord. “Please! No…”

Obi-Wan reached for his old master. “ _Qui-Gon_!”

A crack showed on Qui-Gon’s face as he raised his hand and ordered the droids to halt. They stopped and Qui-Gon approached Obi-Wan. He cupped both sides of Obi-Wan’s face, his thumbs resting underneath Obi-Wan’s eyes. Obi-Wan trembled in Qui-Gon’s hands as he pleading looked up at his old master’s eyes. He searched for mercy. For compassion. For humanity.

He could see that Qui-Gon was reluctant to act. Qui-Gon’s hands were warm as his thumb stroke something Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan held his breath. He wanted nothing more than to be away from this room. Away from scarred memories. Sheltered and protected. And he hoped Qui-Gon revoked his decision and free Obi-Wan from the promised torture.

Qui-Gon saw the pleas and fear within in former padawan. “Obi-Wan… we don’t have to go through this,” he said in an almost desperate manner. “Just tell me Anakin’s location and you can go back to your room.”

Obi-Wan’s heart plummeted. The warmth from Qui-Gon’s hands went cold and a shiver jostled him. A lump formed in his throat, constricting his breathing as Obi-Wan realized his predicament. “Please… Qui-Gon…”

Qui-Gon pressed his hands tighter on Obi-Wan’s head, making sure Obi-Wan only looked at him. “If you give me Anakin’s location, I promise you, Obi-Wan. I promise no one will get hurt. You or whoever has Anakin,” he said, passionately with fine shades of remorse reflecting in his eyes and tone. “Please Obi-Wan. Don’t make me do this to you.”

His heart broke. He never thought… Dooku definitely, but not Qui-Gon. After his experience with Jenna Zan Arbor, Obi-Wan believed Qui-Gon would never put Obi-Wan through that pain again. The distress Qui-Gon was in when his former master rescued him from Arbor’s clutches was enough to make Obi-Wan believe—for a quick moment—it was Qui-Gon the Jedi Master and not Qui-Gon the Sith Lord.

But, he was wrong. He was so wrong.

Obi-Wan already knew his answer—knew his fate—before the word seared his tongue. “No,” he whispered.

Obi-Wan’s fate was sealed. Qui-Gon looked downright hurt. He inhaled deeply. “May the Force be with you.”

It was all he said. Qui-Gon let his hands slip from Obi-Wan’s face, turning his back on Obi-Wan once more. It was like re-watching several of his memories come back to life. Him calling out for Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon walking away with his back turned and no reply.

The magna guards clasped hard on Obi-Wan’s arms again. They hauled him off, lifting him up in the air to stop him from dragging his feet or kicking. Qui-Gon already left the room and sealed it closed. Obi-Wan heard the lock. He still scrambled for some resistance. When they got to gurney, Obi-Wan planted his feet right on the gurney’s edge, preventing the magna guards from placing him down on the solid surface. He pushed back away from the gurney, twisting to loosen the guards’ restraints. He kicked up, using the Force to help him swing over their heads, but again, the guard didn’t let go of him.

The magna guards began talking to each other. Obi-Wan reached with the Force and smashed a stool into the magna guard. Again, it didn’t free Obi-Wan. The guards were stronger than Obi-Wan anticipated. The guards brought him back to the gurney again and, again, Obi-Wan stopped them by placing his feet up in protest.

As long as he prevented them from strapping him in, he would call it a success.

A riveting zap struck him in the side and Obi-Wan yelped at the unpleasant jolt that crippled him. He fell, saved from smashing his head in when the guards yanked him up. Muscles weakened by the jolt, the guards were able to lay Obi-Wan on the gurney and quickly strap him down. Obi-Wan felt the rungs wrapped around his wrists, ankles, thighs, chest and neck. He was well secured. A beeping sound draw his attention above him. A small, floating medical droid hovered above him. It was holding a prod.

It was the medical droid that brought him down. How poetic.

His eye nervously flickered around the room. He spotted all the medical equipment and the plastic containers used to house genetic samples. To the other side, Obi-Wan finally noticed, was a one-sided tinted screen.

Someone was watching. On the other side of the window, he had an audience. He already knew one of them. He wondered who the rest were.

The medical droid began speaking to him, asking questions, but Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He stared at the one-way mirror, muttering one last plea. “Qui-Gon,” he murmured as he swallowed hard. “Help me.”


	26. The Strength in Bonds

Qui-Gon slipped away from the room. He still heard the commotion Obi-Wan made in retaliation. It was pointless to resist. The magna guards wouldn’t release him until he was fully strapped on the gurney. That didn’t stop Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon quietly entered the next room where he witnessed the struggle between Obi-Wan and the magna guards. Obi-Wan had flipped over them, but they still held onto his arms. Eventually, the struggle ended when the medical droid zapped Obi-Wan. His muscles weakened and the magna guards took that brief intermission and securely strapped him onto the gurney. The medical droid spoke to him, trying to garnered information about any medical problems it should be aware of before starting. Obi-Wan wasn’t responding to the droid. His cheek was pressed flat against the gurney and he looked straight at him like he easily saw through the tinted window.

Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan couldn’t see him, but it still unnerved him. Obi-Wan’s blue-grey eyes stared straight at him with fear and trepidation. He saw Obi-Wan’s mouth move, but didn’t make out the words. Whatever it was, Obi-Wan turned away and unnervingly gazed up at the medical droid.

It didn’t have to be this way, Qui-Gon reflected. He gave Obi-Wan every chance to reveal Anakin’s location. Every chance—even at the last minute. But, Obi-Wan refused and now it came to this. Already Qui-Gon wanted to look away, but out of respect, he looked on as the medical droid hooked Obi-Wan up to the equipment and taped electrodes to his head.

Qui-Gon tumbled the ends of his robe, twisting the fabric around his finger as the medical droid finished its prep on Obi-Wan. His heart tore, bleeding and flooding him in painful ruminations. Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell in quick successions. Quick and shallow. High trepidation.

He dropped his hands to the desk, gripping the edge as a clutch to stop his descent. He wasn’t falling. Not physically. But falling nonetheless.

The opening of the door caused Qui-Gon to snap to the right. The sweeping of a cloak and the shine of silver hair signaled the grand arrival of Count Dooku. He swept right next to Qui-Gon, regarding Obi-Wan’s strapped position. He assessed the trapped man with narrowed eyes.

“What did I miss?” Dooku inquired.

“Nothing yet,” Qui-Gon muttered. He was surprised how fast Dooku got to Serenno. He only spoke to his master a few hours ago. “The medical droid is finishing his prep.”

Dooku waved and a chair appeared. He took a seat. “I take he didn’t agree with your terms?”

Qui-Gon kept his eyes on Obi-Wan, who tried to flinch away from the medical droid. “He believes he is protecting Anakin.”

Dooku raised a brow, but whatever he wanted to say was cut off by the medical droid. It spoke through the speaker, grabbing their attention immediately. “Everything is operational and ready.”

Qui-Gon clipped the communication center to reply. “We need his vitals on the screen,” he said to the droid. Few seconds later, a screen came to life and Obi-Wan’s vitals appeared. All were normal. Well, on the low-side of normal. Qui-Gon needed to work on getting Obi-Wan back to perfect health.

His master merely glanced at the screen, apathetic. “Are you sure this will even work, Qui-Gon?” he questioned with raised, susceptible brows. “A crude device if you ask me.”

“Crude perhaps, but effective if used correctly. Revan believed it to be possible for a strong Force bond to achieve greater Force abilities,” Qui-Gon replied as he observed Obi-Wan squirm under the restraints. “Obi-Wan and Anakin have the strongest bond I’ve ever seen. Or even one record. I’m sure you agree with that assessment.”

Dooku inclined his head, relenting that he came to the same conclusion. “I conversed with a few Councilors on the matter. They said even Master Yoda has never seen such attachment between two Force sensitives.”

“Yes, which—if we get this running—will help us locate Anakin through Obi-Wan.”

Dooku raised a skeptical and distrusting brow to his former apprentice. “You hope to increase his power?”

“Not increase,” Qui-Gon corrected. Obi-Wan and Anakin didn’t needed the extra dosage nor did Qui-Gon want to corrupt a pure Force bond. The Force designed them for a reason. Qui-Gon had no desire to go against the nature of the Force. He wanted both Obi-Wan and Anakin untainted so that he may watch and observe the true power of the Force. “No, this will target the midichlorians they already possess. Like overworking a muscle you have, but hardly use. It’s there, but untrained.”

Dooku mused over the explanation with a critical crease between his eyebrows and a perturbed frown. “And what if it doesn’t work, Qui-Gon?” he asked the one question that plagued the room. “What if there is a possibility Obi-Wan cannot do this?”

“He’s strong. He can do it.”

“Qui-Gon,” Dooku groaned, followed by a terrible sigh of vexation. “While I am impress by your faith in him, there may be irreversible damage. If Obi-Wan fails to respond, then we lose our only chance of finding the boy.”

Qui-Gon set his jaw. “He can do it.”

Dooku assessed him with incredulity. “You should have let me interrogate him before resorting to this,” he said, disapprovingly. “I would have extracted the location within seconds.”

Qui-Gon didn’t even want to know how Dooku would accomplish such a feat. And from Obi-Wan, no less. If Obi-Wan was like his younger self, he would never have given in. Obi-Wan would have died in silence under Dooku’s brand of greeting. “This will work, Master. I studied Revan’s notes and… it will work,” he asserted—more for himself than for Dooku’s benefit. He took a calming breath. “Besides, this process won’t require extreme pain… for very long.”

Dooku trenchantly lifted his brows, a wry grin twisting his aquiline features, but obligated not to comment. He reclined in his chair, hands neatly placed on his lap as the droid started. Qui-Gon leaned forward. Eyes inches from the glass as he harrowingly watched Obi-Wan react to the process.

Obi-Wan’s hands curled in constricted fists, eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in a single, sharp concentration of pain. Qui-Gon flinched. A simmering volcanic reaction coming to life just underneath his heart. A deep urge to run out the door and stop it all at once, but he remembered. It needed to be done. Despite his feelings on the matter, it had to be done.

Qui-Gon reached for the Force for stability and guidance. He asked for one request—just one. He wanted the Force to shield most of the pain. Spare Obi-Wan from too much torture. That was his final request for he could not bear watching his padawan in distress.

* * *

When it came, Obi-Wan wasn’t expecting a burst of light to engulf him.

He snapped his eyes shut. The Force tilted or maybe he tilted. It was hard to find any balance. All too uneven and delicate that a single movement may result in a catastrophic collapse. But then, a sharp, striking pain erupted behind his eyes. A single thrust of dark energy pulverizing his conscious. It burned every inch of him, the fire tormenting his nerves. Unyielding and merciless. It sent him spiraling into a fit. An intense heat scorched him, a sleek shine of sweat on his paled skin. Obi-Wan struggled to breathe, gasping in labored pants that helped little in stability.

Until his breath stopped in his chest. An inconsiderable amount of weight pressured into him. In that brief moment of time, Obi-Wan tipped back and plummeted over into the dark, cold depths of eternity. He fell at an incredible speed, his life ripped away from flesh. Until his descent was stopped by a safety net. The Force cocooned him: Pain, relief, disturbance and serenity. A balance.

Obi-Wan peeled back his eyelids and was wondered by the magnificent view. He wasn’t strapped to a gurney. Nor was there a medical droid poking him or magna guards posted at the door. The Force surged, a rising tide of hope overcoming him. He was floating, drifting along the stream of the Force. A single touch sent a ripple. As to where, Obi-Wan was not quite certain. He felt connected not just with the Force, but with the galaxy itself.

He never felt more alive than now.

As he wandered through the majestic tour, he spotted a bright dot. It called to him, luring him with a song that Obi-Wan could not resist. He followed it, moving quicker as the light grew brighter. The closer he got, the warmer he felt. The cold melted off his skin and the lingering throb of pain receded. As he drew near, the Force fused into an image.

It was a room. Fashioned with upscale furniture and modern architecture. Obi-Wan surveyed the area, uncertain how he came to this room and what meaning it had for him. When he came upon the bed, the meaning became clear.

Anakin Skywalker was tucked under the covers, undergoing a fitful sleep.

Obi-Wan went to his side. His hand moved to the boy’s forehead to settle his nightmares, when his hand ghosted through him. Obi-Wan pulled back at once, wide-eyed at what happened. He gaped at his hand to Anakin. Was it… did Qui-Gon… was he—

_Luminous beings, we are. Not this gross matter._

Master Yoda spoken those words to them as younglings. Obi-Wan didn’t comprehend it as a youngling, but now, after seeing his hand ghost through Anakin, he understood. His sense of self did not belong to a body. It belonged within him.

Still, this was an opportunity. He could warn Anakin of the danger. Warn him of Geonosis, the droid army and the slaves trapped on Serenno. Tell him everything so that he could warn the Council.

Obi-Wan crouched next to the bed. “Anakin,” his voice drifted in the fine winds of the Force.

Anakin’s brows furrowed.

The boy sensed him. That was promising. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan urged again. “Anakin—open your eyes, young one.”

Obi-Wan touched Anakin’s bright presence, melding their Force presence together. “Anakin…”

It worked. Anakin’s eyes flew open. “Obi-Wan?” his voice croaked in a guttural whisper.

The corner of Obi-Wan’s lips tugged into a smile upon hearing Anakin’s voice. The whispering promise of salvation.

Obi-Wan went to speak again when he was yanked away. Freezing, limbered claws pierced his shoulders and unceremoniously dragged him out of the room. He heard Anakin calling for him as the room swirled out of focus before it went out of sight entirely.

Obi-Wan resisted. He thrashed his arms and legs as the Force churned in turbulence upon his reaction. The renewed hope and serenity vanished, replaced by stabbing of needles as if he was being stitched back together. Obi-Wan cried out, trying to swipe out with the Force, but there was nothing to hit. Him alone to fight. An imagery of a darker self. He repulsed at the image, tumbling awkwardly through the Force like an untrained youngling.

All he wanted was to return to the Force’s safety net.

A red haze defiled his vision and a pulsating throb overcame him that it was too unbearable to move. He was paralyzed, struck down and nailed back to the gurney that shot shivers down Obi-Wan’s spine. Pins and needles massaged his legs and arms as his chest strained to rise for even a single whisper of breath.

He had returned. Back to the medical room. Back to Serenno. Back to Qui-Gon’s captive.

The medical droid zoomed in overhead, using a light to check his pupils.

Obi-Wan blinked and found himself out of focus again. Anakin’s voice echoed in his ears. But it all came and went as quickly as he blinked again, refocused on the droid speaking to him. “Master Kenobi,” the droid’s programmed voice greeted him. “Remain relaxed.”

If only he could, Obi-Wan thought to himself. If only.

* * *

Qui-Gon had to refrain himself from ending the experiment. The second the medical droid enacted the procedure, Obi-Wan cried out, eyes slammed shut as he bore the pain coursing through him. Qui-Gon kept a tight grip on the counter to prevent him from either falling to the floor or sprinting to the other room. It was troubling—disturbing—to watch his padawan endure pulsing agony.

_Come on, Obi-Wan_ , Qui-Gon repeated in his head as a sleek shine of sweat glazed over his padawan’s skin. _You can do it. Focus._

He flickered to the screens, vigilant as he observed Obi-Wan’s vitals. It wavered, dangerously leveling at high marks that required the medical droid to pump in medicine to keep his heart steady. Still, it didn’t ease the tension building in Obi-Wan’s muscles.

The medical droid kept updating Qui-Gon and Dooku of the process. Dooku didn’t react at all. He viewed the scene with dispassion, not moved by Obi-Wan’s shouts or unsettling quietness. Qui-Gon was the opposite. When Obi-Wan went limp, Qui-Gon’s brain short-circuited. He pressed himself close to the glass, reaching through the Force to his padawan and grasping any trace of Obi-Wan’s presence. But it was so distant. Far, far away from him.

Qui-Gon flashed to the screen. “What’s happening?” he demanded of the droid.

The medical droid zoomed up to the front glass. “All vitals are normal,” it reported.

“Then why is he—”

“Your former padawan is fine, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said. He drew up another chair. “You’re losing control. You’re better than that. Now—sit down.”

"He could be—"

"Do not let your compassion divert you off from the mission," Dooku's face hardened with barely concealed fury. "We all have our parts and are choice on how to go about them. If Kenobi prefers that hard way, then let him do so for he may learn a lesson." He then brutely gestured back to the seat. "Now for Force's sake—sit down!"

Qui-Gon didn’t want to sit down. “I-I can’t feel him in the Force.”

Dooku closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. For a minute, he stayed motionless and then he reopened his eyes. “He’s alive,” he confirmed to Qui-Gon. Dooku's fury dissolved and he suddenly appeared to be in a generous mood. It was rare to ever receive affirmation from the legend. Or any consoling gestures. But, it didn’t last long. His mouth thinned and his voice dropped to a serious exhortation “Now, quell that fear and sit.”

Qui-Gon abided and took a seat on the proffered chair. Dooku readjusted the chains of his cloak. “What happened to that faith of yours?” Dooku asked, caustically.

A well-earned strike, but Qui-Gon wasn’t down yet. “Obi-Wan can do this,” Qui-Gon matched Dooku in severity.

Dooku tilted his head as a smug grin appeared. “We shall see.”

His master never had much faith in Obi-Wan. When he first met Obi-Wan as a fifteen year old padawan, his assessment of the boy was poor. He confided to Qui-Gon that he thought the boy was too stubborn in his thinking. Obi-Wan couldn’t be swayed or even understand the drastic measurements they needed to do. A liability was what Dooku called Ob-Wan. Qui-Gon had to release him.

Qui-Gon disagreed and argued for Dooku to take Obi-Wan under his wing for a week before negotiating it to a single day. Dooku reluctantly agreed in order to _please_ him. Afterwards when Dooku returned Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon’s care, Dooku had a change of heart. He told Qui-Gon he may keep him. Dooku didn’t give any explanations for the change. Qui-Gon, however, didn’t need to know. He already knew Obi-Wan was special and Dooku must have realized it too.

Still, Dooku was rather harsh on Obi-Wan. He expected a lot from the padawan, constantly training him at all times—day and/or night. He drilled him, running Obi-Wan to exhaustion that his padawan acted paralyzed on his bed the following day. Qui-Gon tried to give Obi-Wan some relief, allocating time for his apprentice to rest. Dooku argued he spoiled the boy. “Obi-Wan needs a strong hand guiding him, Qui-Gon,” Dooku reprimanded him many years ago when Qui-Gon told Dooku that Obi-Wan and he were spending the day admiring the sights of Serenno. “Or else he’ll be an insolent brat.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t become a spoiled brat. He turned out to be an ideal apprentice. Strong and fast and intelligent beyond his years. He kept up with Qui-Gon and Dooku in duels—well, kept up longer than other padawans would. A bright pupil and exceeded his peers by a landslide. Qui-Gon was very proud of Obi-Wan. He sensed a greatness within Obi-Wan.

However, that greatness dimmed as Obi-Wan remained comatose on the table.

_Come on, Obi-Wan_. Qui-Gon said again. _You can do this_.

A beep. Both Qui-Gon and Dooku looked to the screen.

Another beep. They both scooted closer to the screen, a bright display of numbers appeared across the screen. They both studied the numbers. An awakening hope resonated between them. It worked! They have found the distance between Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s Force bond. Pleased with the key, Qui-Gon shot a look to the window with reigning anticipation and a grin stretched high up his cheeks.

Obi-Wan was awake. The young man’s eyes blinked up at the medical droid. His fingers flexed and his chest unsteadily rose in shallow gasps. He was alive. Alive! Obi-Wan did it. Qui-Gon’s theory was proven correct. Qui-Gon wanted to hug his padawan, ruffle the young man’s head and tell him how proud he was.

Dooku pulled up a map of the galaxy and drew the radius. A fair amount of planets hit the mark. Dooku scowled, discontent with the lack of narrowed focus. “It may take time for us to cover all these planets.”

Qui-Gon forcibly looked away from Obi-Wan and stared at the map. It only took him a minute to know where Anakin was. He pointed to a planet in the Outer Rim Territories. “Anakin’s here,” he said to Dooku. “On Mandalore.”

“Mandalore?” Dooku mused, a gleam of delight shining in those dark pools. “Ah, yes. Of course. It appears the Duchess still carries a torch for your apprentice.” He gracefully got to his feet, his cloak fluttering around his heels. “I’ll contact our friends in the Death Watch. You—” Dooku merely glanced at the slumped form on the gurney. “You may tend to your apprentice.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head in gratitude as Dooku strode to the door. The silver-haired Sith Lord came to a halt, turning around as light seeped between the cracks of Dooku’s blockage. Dooku was a mighty dark figure and light could not chase the dark he wrapped around himself. But the hint of an appreciative smile nearly blended that dark to grey. “Well done, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said in a rare moment of felicitations. “Your faith in Obi-Wan has proved fruitful.”

Dooku turned again and exited the room with controlled haste. Qui-Gon let out a great sigh of relief, thankful to the Force for keeping Obi-Wan strong and safe during the process. He couldn’t stop beaming though. The Force rejuvenated, a sweet harmony song that ensured Qui-Gon everything was right in the galaxy. His experiment proved its worth. Obi-Wan was alive. And soon, Anakin would be walking these very halls.

Everything was coming together as it should.

* * *

 

The tingling sensation crawling up his whole body left nothing to be desired. The medical droid nuzzled him was an oxygen mask to help him breathe until he gained control of his lungs. His chest was sore. Every breath brought a tightness to his chest. He curled his fingers, flexing to get any feeling back in his hands. It was a slow process.

A door opened, new light pouring through before it was shut. Footfalls grew louder as it came closer to the gurney. Obi-Wan waited. He knew his visitor. In seconds, the wait was over and Qui-Gon stood beside him, staring down a cruel smile of appreciation.

Qui-Gon’s cold hands cupped the side of Obi-Wan’s cheek, his thumb stroking underneath his strained eyes. It slid easily across his cheek. A sleek layer of sweat glossed his paled skin. Qui-Gon then pulled away, but remained towering over him. The smile still set in place.

“You did well, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon complimented, eyes glittering with pride. “I’m very proud of you.”

That sent another jolt of shivers down Obi-Wan’s spine. The very phrase sent him spiraling in a nauseating fit. He was shaking now.

The medical droid returned, reporting the final results to Qui-Gon. Once Qui-Gon approved them, the droid retracted the mask from Obi-Wan’s face, giving him freedom to control his own breathing. All the electrodes and IVs were carefully extracted from him until he was free from all medical equipment. Qui-Gon unlocked the strap that trapped his neck, followed by his left arm and then his next arm.

“You are going to feel lightheaded Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon spoke, but his face blurred like a mirage. His voice grated, like pebbles grinding under a boot. “Obi-… eye… don’t…”

An electric zap brought him back, plunging out of the Force and back to reality. His reality. Qui-Gon looked on with concern. “You may experience some slight shifts within the Force. You’ll need to take it easy in the next couple of hours.”

That’s a laugh. There was nothing _easy_ about being here. Everything was a test and critically judged on worth. Nothing was easy. Obi-Wan always worked hard for he had no choice as it was do or be killed. His training taught him to never surrender. To always have a plan for every eventuality. The battle wasn’t over yet.  

As Qui-Gon worked on freeing his last arm, Obi-Wan initiated his plan. Hand fisted, he shot his left arm across his body, arched sharp to Qui-Gon’s face. It was a quick reaction. One a normal person wouldn’t expect, but Qui-Gon wasn’t normal. He was a Sith Lord and expected the reaction. He instantly caught Obi-Wan’s wrist before contact, the grip not tight to form a bruise ring. Qui-Gon glanced from the captured fist to Obi-Wan’s face, disapproving.

“Did you really think that would work?” Qui-Gon humorously questioned.

“No,” Obi-Wan admitted in a small rasp. “Decoy.”

Qui-Gon’s smile faulted in misunderstanding before he received a punch to his genitals by Obi-Wan’s right hand. He watched Qui-Gon drop to a broken, howling man. Obi-Wan didn’t care. With the Force at his fingertips, he freed himself of his rest of his restraints. He sat up on the gurney in time to defend himself from the magna guards that rushed him. On instinct, Obi-Wan shot his hands out. To his utter surprise, what he thought was a mild toss turned to be a whiplash hurl. The guards slammed into the wall hard enough to be powered off. Obi-Wan, blue eyes baffled by the strength, glanced from the guards to his hands in a muddled of horror and awe. The medical droid beeped and squealed in fright, spinning around in mid-air unsure what to do.

Not Obi-Wan. He swung his legs over and jumped for a run, only to find himself flat on the floor. His legs were feeble, a feeling of numbness that had yet to go away. He couldn’t lose like this. Pushing himself forward, he grappled onto the gurney, rising unsteadily upon braced feet. The room tilted, a rush sweeping him in a sudden urgency to go.

And he did. He sprinted head-first to the door, fumbling in his speed. He ran into several objects, blasting them away from him. He got to the door and to his luck, it wasn’t locked. He palmed it opened and found freedom. He toppled out of the room, tripping over his feet as he turned down the corridor. He remembered the path they took. He could find his way out. He could make it.

The corridor swarmed, morphing into a black abyss as he heard echoes of a child’s voice. The Force rewrapped him again, holding him and blocking everything—

_Crack_! Obi-Wan eyes flew opened as his head crashed into the side of the wall. He lost focus again. Reality slipped and he along with it. He tumbled to the floor. A rupture of pain banging between his ears. Obi-Wan laid still, forehead kissing the cold tile to relieve the ache that throttled him. He was losing it. His mind dizzying in and out like a kaleidoscope of raging madness. There was no barrier. No prevention. His control was dismantled and he became a crumbling mess.

Obi-Wan began to think he was done for. That his very essence was cutting itself out from his flesh and bone, to rejoin the Force where comfort was offered. While the rest of his inner struggle was abandoned, left alone to crawl on hands and knees to escape the persecution he so rightly didn’t deserve.

_Somebody help me_.

He had never called out for help in years. Not since he was thirteen years old. He was taught to save himself and others. Trained to have no dependency. So, Obi-Wan never called for help. It was he who had to be his own savior. His only hope. But now, he became nothing more than that lost, insecure thirteen year old reject, clinging onto desperate notion that someone would care enough about him to save him from a certain fate.

As he laid prostrate on the floor, he heard the hums of the Force call to him. A sweet song that tingled his mind and warmed his heart. A whistle in a breeze, a certain serenity as it encouraged him. Obi-Wan had heard the song before, a tune so familiar to him that it brought a wave of nostalgia. A sweet smile. A gentle laugh. A strong voice. A sharp wit. It all came back in pieces, teasing him with images reforming into someone he knew…

A sharp discord shattered the harmony. A shrill of warning blasted through Obi-Wan’s mind with quick urgency. Obi-Wan realized Qui-Gon was coming. He felt his master’s presence striding after him like a descending bat. If Obi-Wan stayed, he would be caught.

Hands splayed on the wall, he pulled his shaking limbs up and took a tiny step. He was walking on thin ice, dangerously slipping as cracks formed under him. His vision distorted again, the corridor replaced with a burst of bright light. Obi-Wan shut his eyes, disgruntled by his lack of control. He knew better on controlling his Force powers and yet, he was like youngling all over again, fumbling in his connection with the Force. He never felt so in tune and out of tune with the Force. An unbalance that trembled in trepidation.

His perception was hay-wired. Every sense was disturbed that Obi-Wan couldn't even trust his own coordination or mind. He clung to the Force for guidance, deciphering its turbulence as demand to move. Upon its dire warning, Obi-Wan took another step. It was unsuccessful. His knees buckled and he plummeted. He landed on the floor with a loud crack and into a heap, legs twisted behind him. His forehead touched the tile floor, breathing hard as he let the cold kiss of the tile be his anchor. His vision cleared and he caught a fading reflection of his palled face in the fog residue of his breathing.

Hurried footfalls reverberated his senses. They slowed as it got near, coming to a full stop right next to him. A gentle tendril of the Force curled around Obi-Wan, moving him off his stomach and onto his back. Obi-Wan stared up in expectance to see Qui-Gon standing over him. When their eyes met, Qui-Gon crouched down. He opened his mouth, but his words sounded garbled in Obi-Wan's ears.

Whatever he was saying, Obi-Wan knew best not to agree. He shook his head, sending a rush of dizzy spells to pollute his already hazed mind.

Qui-Gon's hands dropped down to him, but with reserved strength, Obi-Wan blocked him. 

Qui-Gon lifted his hands in a false surrender. "Calm down," he murmured and Obi-Wan sensed a startling tranquility enter his Force presence, sliding right underneath his weakening shields. Against his better judgment, Obi-Wan relaxed. "There you go. Easy now," the Sith Lord said as his hands penetrated through Obi-Wan’s personal space and fingertips touched the wet brows upon his forehead. 

Obi-Wan drifted from corridor and back to the stream of unconsciousness as a pair of arms bundled him and lifted him off the floor. Obi-Wan was too lost to protest what was happening. As the shroud of sleep overtook him, he swore upon awakening he would learn what Qui-Gon did to him.

* * *

Anakin shot up from his bed. “Obi-Wan!”

Chest heaving, he quickly scanned the room with lingered hope that Obi-Wan was actually in the room. He shoved off his covers and darted around the room, but once he discovered he was alone, that hope dimmed.

But, Anakin swore he sensed him. He recognized Obi-Wan’s Force presence anywhere and he was certain that he touched it. He also saw a flutter of images of Obi-Wan. Mostly of him in pain. But, through the images, he recognized the scenery. The environment. The essence of the hell Obi-Wan had been dragged to. Obi-Wan’s memories and nightmares have shown him enough to recognize that foul stench in the Force.

He knew exactly where Obi-Wan was.

Anakin raced out of his room, causing a quite a startle of the guards patrolling the corridor. They shouted at him, but Anakin paid no heed to their calls. One guard tried to capture him, but Anakin ducked and sped around the corner as the guards scrambled to chase after him.

Left. Right. Right again. Anakin spotted the massive doors, a squad of blue guards posted by its frame. The guards spotted Anakin’s charging figure and pulled out their staffs, crossing blades in front of the door to prevent entrance.

“The Duchess asked not to be disturbed,” the blue guard stated to Anakin.

Anakin panted, his labored heart pounding in his ears. “It’s important!”

The blue guards did not share his urgency. What could be important in the middle of the night? The Duchess had requested privacy and; therefore, that was what the guards would provide. Feet planted and armed, they denied Anakin free access.

Anakin huffed, face hardening and eyes fallen to slits as a rising tide of anger filled him. He raised a finger, flicking it to unlock the door. As the door parted open, it drew the guards’ attention away from him and to the cracking door. Anakin used the distraction against the guards and slid underneath their staffs and right through the now parted doors of the Duchess’s bedroom.

The guards shouted and rushed at him, but Anakin jumped to his feet and sprinted to where he saw Satine sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Satine!” Anakin cried out, causing the Duchess to jump in fright from the commotion.

She shot to her feet flattening her hair as she took in the scene just as one of the guards grabbed hold of Anakin’s collar. Anakin squirmed, choking from the guard’s hold on him. The small squad of personal security guards filed into the room, staff raised to execute.

Satine held up her hand immediately to stop them. “Let him go!” she said as she hurried down from her bed to meet Anakin. “It’s fine. He’s okay.”

The guard uncurled his grip and released Anakin. Free, Anakin rushed to the Duchess, grabbing the fabrics of her gown like a child tugging for attention. “Satine! I saw him! I saw Obi-Wan!”

Satine blinked. Her red-strained, somewhat swollen eyes puzzled over Anakin’s declaration. “What—Obi-Wan is here?” She looked passed Anakin and through the guards, searching.

“No—I mean,” Anakin’s tongue stumbled, not finding the right words to describe what he experienced. Obi-Wan would have understood. But Satine. She wasn’t Force-sensitive. “I saw him… when I was asleep. I felt his presence. It was like… it was like he was really here! I saw him, Satine!”

A dash of disappointed marked upon Satine’s face. Her hands reached and held on to Anakin’s shoulders, holding him steady. She brushed the strands of his brown-blonde hair out of his eyes. “Oh, Anakin. It was only a dream—”

Anakin shook his head. “No! It wasn’t! I saw him! I felt him!”

“Anakin…”

Anakin clutched Satine’s hands, his face growing a bit redder at the dismissal. Obi-Wan would never dismiss what he saw. Vision or not. He always talked to him about it. “It wasn’t a dream, Satine!” he insisted, his voice imbued with impatience. “I saw him! I felt him in the Force! It was like… I finally succeeded in contacting him.”

Satine hesitated, clearly baffled by his assurance. Anakin needed her to believe him. He truly did find Obi-Wan. There was no doubt or question. This wasn’t a dream or a vision. It was real. All too real for Anakin to be subjugated as insanity. He kept hold of Satine’s hands, eyes beaming up at her in pleas.

A soft sigh of reluctance exhaled from Satine. “Let’s speak to Master Yoda,” she advised to Anakin. “He may understand what happened.”

Anakin’s grip on Satine’s hand loosen. “You don’t believe me.”

“No, I do,” Satine insisted as she rubbed her eyes in attempt to remove any trace of… was it tears? Was she crying before he crashed into her room unannounced? She straightened up, her face settled into a more passive state. “But if there is anyone here who understands your gifts in the Force, it would be him.”

Anakin didn’t trust Master Yoda. He was a Jedi. A member of the High Council who locked Obi-Wan away in those dungeons. Obi-Wan never minded him. In fact, upon their arrival on Coruscant, Anakin sensed a familial connection between Obi-Wan and Master Yoda. A link in chain of kinship. But, if that were true, why did Yoda send him to the dungeons or label him an outlaw? A liar? Anakin didn’t know and for that reason, he still held doubts about the Grandmaster despite Obi-Wan’s friendly demeanor toward him.

Yet, Satine was unable to help him. Only Master Yoda was the other known Force-sensitive on planet and Anakin did feel a great sense of power emitting from the old, green master. Perhaps Yoda was his best chance on rescuing Obi-Wan from the Sith Lords’ captivity.

With some reluctance, Anakin followed Satine to the Grandmaster’s suite. Satine politely knocked and the doors opened on their own accord. The green, old Jedi Master sat perched in the middle of the floor, eyes closed and ears perked up as if listening for something in particular.

They strode forward and as they got near, Master Yoda hummed. “Disturbance in the Force,” he said. His eyes slid open and fixed on Anakin. “Felt it, you did.”

Anakin nodded. “I saw Obi-Wan,” he said again. “Or at least, I sensed his presence. It was like he was standing right next to my bed.”

Master Yoda studied Anakin with green eyes of scimitar perceptiveness. Anakin shuffled closer to Satine, not liking the idea that the Jedi Master could easily read him. The green Jedi hummed again, nodding as deep grooves trenched his forehead. His ears weathered down and the small Jedi sighed.

“Feel him, you did,” Master Yoda confirmed. “Your Force bond expanded.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Anakin, eyes crinkled in confusion. How did their Force bond expand? Did he do it on his own? Unintentionally?

Master Yoda steadily rose from where he sat, holding his gimer stick for stability and balance. “To locate you it appears the Sith used yours and Obi-Wan's bond,” he said. “Through Obi-Wan, to expand the bond to locate your haven, they managed.”

Anakin’s spike of distress clouded the Force. He looked from Master Yoda to Satine and then back to Yoda. A haunting realization rising between them. “No! How could you even say that?” Anakin demanded, disgusted by the subtle suggestion, firmly. “No—Obi-Wan wouldn’t betray me like that. He wouldn’t give those Sith scums anything—”

“Willing, he did not,” Master Yoda waved a claw at Anakin. “No, forced, he was. Cruel and painful, to thrust a person into the rage of the Force without proper guidance, it is.”

Anakin’s face turned a deep shade of red. His lips compressed, his expression lining between petulant and furious. “Then we shouldn’t have waited!” he shouted, resentful of the two adults. It was their fault Obi-Wan was in trouble. Their lack of action—their refusal to act—abandoned Obi-Wan to a terrible fate. “We should have done something! Anything!” Anakin careened toward the window, away from the Jedi Master. They needed to start searching for Obi-Wan, but the Master Jedi shot him down. Anakin stared out at the domed skies, stretching his Force presence through the murky waves of the Force.

He could feel Obi-Wan again. He was far, far away, but the light on the other side stayed true amongst the sea of darkness.

He felt two gentle hand cover him and Anakin looked up to see Satine staring down at him with sympathy in her eyes. Anakin’s words broke. “They’re torturing him. I felt it. They were hurting him.”

Satine’s straight lips wavered as she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” she offered though her voice wasn’t as even as it once was. “You’re right, we should have done more.”

But they didn’t. And now, Obi-Wan was across the galaxy, experiencing unimaginable pain. Anakin would do anything— _anything_ —to save Obi-Wan from that fate. His chest squeezed close, an icy tingle crawled up his skin that made him quiver in Satine’s arms.

Satine caressing hushed him, holding him in an embrace. “It’ll be okay, Anakin,” she whispered reassurances to him. “We’ll get him back.”

Would they? Anakin didn’t know anymore.

Master Yoda took slow steps to him and Satine. The Jedi Master austerely stared at Anakin as he inquired, “To you did Kenobi speak?”

Anakin pulled himself away from Satine to answer the Jedi’s question. “I think he may have said my name,” he said, shamed that he could not offer anymore. “But, before he was gone entirely, I saw flashes. Images of sorts. Things I’ve seen before.”

“Of the images, where and what were they?”

“It was of pain and sorrow,” Anakin muttered, fingers shaking. He snatched the ends of his tunic to hide the tremble as he recalled the strikes he felt from the Force when those images came upon him. “But the place—I recognized it from Obi-Wan’s nightmares. It’s Serenno.”

“Serenno?” Satine repeated, recognizing the planet from their previous conversation with Padmé.

Anakin feverishly nodded. “I’m positive,” he claimed, rubbing his temple again. “That’s where he is. They have him in Serenno.”

Master Yoda eyed his gesture questionably. “Your head hurt does, hmm?”

Ever since waking up, Anakin’s mind tingled. Pins and needles dotted his forehead and, every now and then, a sharp prick stabbed him in the temples. “A little.”

Master Yoda’s ears twitched. He studied Anakin again, his presence tickling Anakin’s shield. The Jedi Master gripped his gimer stick. “No longer safe for Skywalker, Mandalore is. Leave, he must.”

Satine was shocked. “Leave?”

Master Yoda gravely released a tired breath. “Here, the Sith know Anakin is. Come for him, they will. Dangerous for you and your people, it is.”

“But where will he go?” Satine argued on Anakin’s behalf. “Obi-Wan entrusted me with his care and protection. I gave him my word.”

“To keep your word, need to leave, Anakin will. Take him to Coruscant I will. Safe, to the Temple where he will be.”

Anakin curled his nose back, lips pursed in a tight pout. He did _not_ want to return to that fortress. He had no desire to be captive to that prison and let all the other children mock him and Obi-Wan. “No, I’m not leaving,” Anakin stood his ground. “Obi-Wan trusted the Duchess to keep me safe. I trust her too! She can keep me safe.”

Master Yoda frowned. “Willing to risk the innocent lives around you, you are, hmm because of a fear?” the Jedi Master challenged. “Kenobi say to that, what would, hmm? Of Mandolarians spare the lives. Spare the life of the Duchess, if leave the planet you do.”

Anakin wouldn’t bestow death or danger to anyone on Mandalore. But he most certainly would not step foot back in that Temple. He had no need to be harassed and mocked. “They might not have figured out that I’m here. Maybe Obi-Wan—”

Master Yoda gaveled his gimer stick on the floor. “Letting fear cloud your better judgment, you are,” he chided. “Come and kill and take you, the Sith will. Willing to sacrifice everything Kenobi gave only to fall right into the Sith lords' hands are you, hmm?”

Never! He wouldn’t let Obi-Wan’s sacrifice be in vain. “No, of course not, but—”

“Deep down, do, you know what you must,” Master Yoda finished, looking from Anakin to Satine. “Of you both.”

Anakin rocked on his feet, anxiously looking up to Satine. She didn’t look down. Her eyes faded to a faraway memory. Too far for Anakin to reach her. He sensed her feelings though. Sorrow, reluctance and a mounting amount of acquiescent. She was leaning to agree with Master Yoda.

While Anakin protested the very notion of returning to that dreaded fortress, he too knew Master Yoda was right. The Force was turbulent. The tranquil stream that filtered through him earlier tonight was long ago distressed by a storm. Something was brewing. A foreboding message that repeated over and over in his head, searing it that Anakin once again reach up to his forehead to relieve the pain.

Throbbing in pain, Anakin clutched his head. Stormy waves of the Force crashed into him. A distant siren wailing, growing louder as the waves threateningly loomed over him. A scream perched at the tip of his tongue, throat burning to release all the tension building. It took all of his might to contain the explosiveness, to retain the curdling scream of warning. But the pressure built, pushing against his restraints until it cracked. His resolve faulted. The need to release all the feeling to the Force in a single scream became warranted – necessary.

But just as he prepared to scream, a thunderous rumble overtook the room. Satine immediately snatched Anakin and pulled him close to shield him from whatever caused the combustion. They all quizzically flickered to one another, half expecting the other to dismiss the disturbance. No one did. Silence filled the room for only a second. One second, before a piercing cry shattered the night. Satine and Anakin spun around and looked out the window.

Across the city, clogs of smoke smoldered the view as fire nipped at a now charcoaled, destroyed building. Satine dashed to the window, her schooled expression contorted to a gasping horror as she watched the flames rise higher. From above, a large banner flew over the destruction. Painted on the banner was a three-talon claw sigil.

Anakin squinted in puzzlement at the fluttering banner. “What does _that_ mean?”

Satine inched away from the window, hand pressed against her heart. “Death Watch.”


	27. The Battle of Mandalore

Satine marched down the corridor of her palace, instructing her guards to initiate the safety protocols. Sirens wailed, screaming into the night as a mass surge of people fled the destruction. Anakin and Master Yoda followed her in hurried steps and stiff expression.

Surrounding them was a swarm of highly trained royal guards, the best of the best to protect their Duchess. Satine steered them down another long corridor, away from the more obvious places like the throne room and bedrooms. She gestured for Anakin and Master Yoda to follow her down the private corridor.

“Death Watch will most likely strike again,” Satine declared as they hurried down the corridor. “Especially if they are in league with the Sith.”

“Not if, Duchess,” Master Yoda said. “For Dooku and Jinn, we know already they work. Time wasted anymore, cannot be.”

“Agreed,” Satine said as her feet quickened the pace. Heart racing onward. “We’re heading to the hanger right now.”

They marched down the corridor with no hesitation in their steps. Master Yoda was right. Death Watch’s attack on planet meant trouble for Anakin and she rather die than have Anakin be taken by those scoundrels. What surprised her the most was Master Yoda’s endurance. For an old, wizened Jedi, he moved swiftly like a young man. His visage of an old, cane wielding master was a good façade for those susceptible enemies.

Satine led them around another corner. “We are almost there,” she called over her shoulder. She spotted Anakin slowing his pace. “Anakin! Keep up—”

A blaster explosion silenced Satine’s words, overpowering her voice with raining blocks of the cubist murals. Jagged pieces slammed into Satine’s side and back, but it was her guard that propelled her down on the floor. She laid still as the smoky remains eluded the presence of those around her.

The rumble murmured down the long corridor before it fled to the silence. The shattered rubble buried her deep, but not heavy. Once Satine gathered her wits, she pushed herself up. Pieces of the wall fell aside from her body, leaving dark, grey stains on her dress and skin. There were tears in her dress and skin, but little blood. Overall, she was good. Hot air brushed against her skin from the small fires the burned the last remnants of the wall. She looked out, spotting the plaza at a new angle.

Citizens gathered either scattered or stayed, staring up with pointed fingers and fear. The palace was attacked. The very planet a direct hit. Duchess Satine shook her head, trying to regain control of her fear and wits again. She had something to do. There was something. Someone—

A few of her royal guards stirred, rising up with their staffs. The guard who shoved Satine to the floor stayed prostrate at an ugly angle. Satine dropped her hand to his neck. There was no pulse. Satine’s eyes drifted closed in somber. A life lost over pointless violence.

She stood up again, taking count of the people around her. Only two guards were emerged from the wreckage unharmed. The rest were either wounded or dead. But that wasn’t what got her anxious and digging fretfully through the rubble. There was someone missing from the head count.

“Anakin!” she yelled out. “Anakin!”

She whipped her head to the guards. “Where’s Anakin?”

The royal guards meanderingly searched around them before shrugging. “We don’t know, Duchess,” one answered.

Satine was not happy with that response. “Well, search!”

She dug through the rubble, searching for either Anakin or Master Yoda. Even the little green Jedi did not make an appearance since the explosion. She pushed aside each crumbling block with all her might, heart constricting in hopes of not spotting a blonde-brown hair child underneath. She wanted to find him, but not in the rubble. Not dead underneath a chunks of wall and glass.

Staying focused, she didn’t even hear the arriving footsteps of Senator Merrik coming. “Duchess!” he cried, his dark cloaks fluttering by his ankles as he held his turban on top of his head with a single hand. “Duchess! Are you all right?”

Satine jolted up. “Senator! Death Watch is attacking the capital,” she said to explain the mess surrounding her as the Senator came to a stop. “Help me look for survivors, Senator.”

“Actually Duchess—” Senator Merrik said as the royal guards situated behind _him_. “I am already assigned a job. I am tasked to find Anakin Skywalker.”

The moment Anakin’s name passed from Senator Merrik’s mouth, the blow of betrayal swung a perfect hit against her. Not only was it the Senator’s betrayal, but also her trusted royal guards sworn to protect her. They stood proudly behind Senator Merrik, who clutched a blaster in his very hand.

He raised it up, taking aim at Satine’s heart. “It’s fortunate the explosion didn’t kill you. I was hoping a little maiming. A lost arm or leg? But… at least you can still talk,” he sneered deliriously. “Now—where’s the boy? Where is Skywalker?”

Satine lips tightened. She was not going to say anything. Even if Anakin survived the explosion that ripped open the palace, she wouldn’t hand him over to a slug like Merrik. The Senator was not pleased by her silence and issued the guards to secure her.

Her once loyal guards grabbed her. Senator Merrik pulled out his comlink. “Pre Vizsla,” he spoke into the comlink. “Tell Count Dooku that Mandalore has been secured. We’ll find the boy shortly and deliver him upon requested arrival time.”

The static voice of Governor Vizsla responded. “Excellent work, Senator. I’ll inform the Count,” said Vizsla. “Remember—the boy must not be harmed.”

Pre Vizsla?! The air in Satine’s lungs zapped out in another effective strike. After all this time, the governor was working with Death Watch. All of his reports and promises and pledges to the New Mandolorian ways were all falsehoods and insincerity. And Satine had truly believed him to be a staunch supporter of hers. The betrayal tasted bitter on her tongue as she growled upon hearing the man’s voice. So much for a loyal friend!

The transmission ended and Merrik pocketed his comlink. He casually stepped up, a man high on power. “Let’s try again, shall we, Duchess?” said in sweet, poisoned words. “Where is Skywalker?”

Satine’s eyes narrowed and her lips vanished underneath the tight frown. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists or traitors.”

“I’m neither,” Senator Merrik proclaimed, growing red in the face. “I’m a loyalist! I represent what’s true to the Mandalore culture—the Mandalore heart!” The senator pulled up his blaster again to her face. Satine didn’t look away. That would be cowardly and she had too much courage in her heart to turn away. “Now, I’m your conqueror. Tell me where the Skywalker brat is and I shall give you a more merciful death than what Pre Vizsla would grant.”

Death wasn’t a fear of hers. After spending almost a year being hunted, death became more like a companion. A friend that drove her to the love of her life. His sheltering arms made her unafraid of Death. Unafraid of the unknown. She stared down the blaster, but all she saw was Obi-Wan. His eyes. His wry smile that held some humorous secret. His auburn hair shining bright under the sunlight.

Her heart drummed, louder than ever before, but not in fright like Senator Merrik thought. Her heart lit up by the pure, gold love she harbored. Not just for Obi-Wan, but for little Anakin as well. She never had a child of her own and knew—deep in her lonely soul—she would never have one. But, Anakin became the closest she would ever have one with the person she truly loved.

When Senator Merrik gave that generous offer, Satine didn’t see it as an offer. Nor generous. He was asking her to sacrifice a child. _Her_ child. The one thing she—or any mother—would never sacrifice. Not even for their own life or the greater good.  

“Death is not the worst thing to happen,” she snarled at the brute. Her temper nearly matching her fear for Anakin. “Only for a slug like yourself, Merrik, that death is the end.”

Senator Merrik glared, lip curled to reveal the snarl as he spat. “I’m not the one lined up in front of a firing squad,” he sneered. “No, Duchess, once you are dead, it is _I_ who will become the ruler of Mandalore.”

“You will be nothing more than a contemptible traitor! The people will not stand for it.”

Senator Merrik laughter hit her like a rod: sharp and striking that burned her face. “The people will have no choice! Death Watch will bring back the Mandalorian culture. And with the Count’s influence, Mandalore will once again rise to its military power in the galaxy.

“And it shall start with eliminating your pacifist ass,” Senator Merrik declared. “I’ll find the boy on my own. Good bye, Duchess.”

Senator Merrik’s eyes were without mercy. A dawning realization that her death would send Mandalore plummeting back into a life of bloodshed. A chilling foresight of the end of her legacy through her death. Without her, Mandalore will plunge back into its violent past. All the pains and effort she endured to bring a new era for Mandalore was crushing back down by the spineless politician who cared only for his own esteemed power than the good of the people.

She knew Senator Merrik expected her to beg for mercy, to quiver in fear or try to escape her confines, but Satine has done that far too much than she cared for. Back straightened, chin up and eyes fixed on Senator Merrik. She would not cowl to such scums of the galaxy. She was a Mandalorian. A proud and brave being who was not afraid to die for her planet, her beliefs or for the people she loved. A true Mandalorian in every possible way.

The blaster softly wailed, a message of the doom she faced. Her killer didn’t even dare look at her in the eye. His focus was on the bunt end of the blaster. Spineless di’kut—

A blast rang out. The zap sound made Satine blink. She had thought she would not hear the sound of her death approaching. So, it surprised her to hear the blaster go off. Her lungs expanded, her breath constricted in her chest that she troubled gasping for even a breath. Is this how one died? Soul being ripped out of your chest through the throat?

Satine blinked again and looked back to Senator Merrik.

Or, where Senator Merrik _was_ standing.

Looking down, she found Senator Merrik’s stunned eyes, gazing wide up at the opened ceiling. Surprise etched into his face as he laid perfectly still like a statue.

The sound of the blaster reloading garnered Satine’s attention away from Senator Merrik’s stunned form.

A few meters away stood Anakin, holding the stun blaster Obi-Wan packed in his hand. He moved the blaster from Senator Merrik to the royal guards imprisoning her. “Let her go!”

The former royal guards did nothing. Not at first. Their eyes shifted from Senator Merrik to Anakin with uncertainty on what to do. But they refocused and remembered their task. “Surrender or we kill the Duchess!”

One former guard pulled Satine to his chest, arm wrapped around her neck and squeezed. Satine’s esophagus pinched and her throat closed. She choked upon reaction and that was all that Anakin needed to act. He lifted his blaster and with defined precision, he fired one after the other. Each bolt hit its target right in the chest. No screams. No cries. Just a rippling effect through the air before it penetrated through the armor and into their skin. Each guard dropped like cut strung dolls.

The guard restraining Satine tossed her aside so that he could avenge his fallen brothers, was shot last. He tipped backwards, hitting his head hard on the cubes that bedded him.

Satine shakenly rose to her feet, feet stumbling over the rubble as she madly hurried to Anakin. She cupped Anakin’s cheeks, examining for any damages. Her trembling fingers traced the small scratches and smudge of dust over Anakin’s cheek. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah… I sensed the attack before it happened,” Anakin informed her. He was very calm. He had just shot four men and his voice didn’t even hesitate. “I had to use the Force to shove you down to stop the blast from hitting your head.”

Satine was baffled by his statement, but then remembered... “ _You_ pushed me down?” she responded in soft shock. “I thought that was the guard.”

Anakin shook his head, dust particles flying off. “No… I did that,” he confirmed and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to follow him. “Come on! We have to go. Master Yoda is waiting for us.”

They dashed down the corridor. Satine kept a tight grip on Anakin’s hand, afraid to let go in fear he may be taken away. Arriving at the hanger with panted rasps, they spotted Master Yoda among the rows of swoops, speeder bikes, speeders and freight carriers. Master Yoda had picked one of the speeders, sitting on top as his claw hand signaled them to hurry. Satine and Anakin climbed into the speeder, Satine taking the driver seat. She hadn’t drove in years, but it was like riding a speeder bike.

One look and her memory kicked in. She ignited the engine and slammed on the pedal as they pelted out of the hanger. Anakin sat in front, hair whipping away from his face as the Master Jedi sat poised in the back.

“Betrayed you were, Duchess,” Master Yoda said in his wheezed breath. “Death Watch infiltrated the government.”

Satine nodded. “I know,” she hissed between her clenched teeth. “I had a lovely chat with Senator Merrik about it. You’re right, Master Jedi.” She turned the speeder around the building. “Death Watch is in league with Dooku.”

“For Skywalker, Senator Merrik asked,” Master Yoda stated.

Satine didn’t bother to affirm it. She guided the speeder through the city, heading for the international spaceport. “They won’t get him,” she gritted as she avoided another speeder zooming through the city.

Anakin peered over the edge, eyes narrowed. “I sense something,” he murmured, looking wildly around. “I have a bad feeling.”

Satine and Master Yoda both looked around with questionable scrutiny. Satine didn’t see anything odd or threatening. Then again, she wasn’t Force-sensitive like the Jedi. She remembered how Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sensed danger a mile away. So, she took Anakin’s word and tightened her hold on the wheel, focused on her driving. In cast she had to do some spectacular driving.

Anakin raised his stun blaster, still looking up. Master Yoda drew out his lightsaber. “Skywalker, stay down.”

Satine heard the noise. The power of jet packs alerted her that Death Watch located them. Satine peaked up and spotted three Mandalorian fighters flying over them, blasters in hand. Satine thrusted the controllers forward and the speeder surged, the speed overcoming as the buildings around them blurred.

Death Watch careened down after them, firing at the ship.

“Steady the speeder,” Master Yoda called to Satine.

That was what she was trying to do. She held a tight control of the wheel, barely driving sanely at an insane speed. The snap hiss of a lightsaber being ignited brought a formable memory of Obi-Wan using his lightsaber to block off bolts aimed carefully at her head.  She imagined Master Yoda to be just as talented.

Bolts came whizzing past her, causing her hand to slip and jerk the speeder. Close calls! She looked back to Anakin, watching his stay crouched in his seat, stun blaster aimed. Anakin fired a few shots up at the Mandalorians as Master Yoda did his best to block the bolts that came for them.

“Lose them before more arrive to aid their friends, we must,” Master Yoda called over his shoulder.

Satine agreed. They didn’t need a whole party to join them. But she wasn’t capable of out maneuvering the fighters. She was never a good driver. Obi-Wan told her often enough she should never be behind a wheel. She checked Anakin to see how he was—

Anakin! She remembered him being an excellent pilot. The boy blew up the Trade Federation in an unfamiliar ship. Obi-Wan even vouched for his piloting skills.

Satine knew what to do. “Anakin!”

Anakin flashed his eyes to her. Satine gestured to the wheel. “Take the wheel!” she ordered. “Head northeast.”

Anakin understood and slipped under to take over the driving as Satine shifted to the other seat. She took up Anakin’s stun blaster. Anakin grabbed the wheel, holding firm and looking ahead with concentrated eyes.

“Do you know how to work that?” Anakin yelled over the roaring sounds of bolts and engine.

“I do.”

“But you’re a pacifist!”

“I may be a pacifist,” Satine started as she took aim up at the Mandalorian fighters that drew nearer. She took careful aim, getting the Mandalorian right in her sight. “But I will defend myself and others.”

She pulled the trigger. Her bolt skyrocketed up and slammed into her target. The Mandalorian plummeted. Satine recharged the blaster. Master Yoda spun his green lightsaber in a flurry of parries and slashes that almost acted more like a lightshow rather than a defensive strategy. She was dazzled by how agile and quick he caught those bolts with her lightsaber. A zing echoing in the wind upon each counterstrike. No wonder Obi-Wan admired the ancient Jedi.

Satine heard her blaster fully charged and took aim again. They had two to fight off. Only two. Anakin weaved in and out of buildings with easy and gentle twist of his wrist. He was in complete control—in the zone and undisturbed by the raging force he drove. No fear. No anxiety. This was child’s play for him.

Satine fired a round of bolts up at the Mandalorian, but each bolt missed the targets. Frustrated, she had to recharge the blaster, leaving Master Yoda as their only line of defense for a moment. But he was being overwhelmed that a stray bolt passed his shield and hit Satine.

Satine cried out. She slumped back into the speeder as she squeezed her arm. Blood speckling her sleeves, drawing her skin pale. The speeder jerked and Anakin’s voice penetrated through the haze of pain. “Satine! Satine!”

She craned her head up. Anakin had forgotten the road. Blue, frozen eyes locked on her with a desperate desire to help her. But, Satine couldn’t let him. He needed to pilot them to the spaceport. She regathered herself, masking the pain with a stoic, determined façade for Anakin’s benefit.

“I’m all right,” she reassured Anakin. “Just a graze.”

“But—”

“Its okay, Anakin,” she insisted, blood seeping through her sleeves and trickling down her arm, forming a red line down the crevices of her knuckles. “Focus on the lane. Get us out of here.”

Anakin numbly nodded and returned to piloting. Satine took up position, the blaster ready. She fired off a few more bolts and got one hit on the jetpack carrying the Mandalorian. The jetpack smoked and the fighter managed to pilot itself to a nearby rooftop.

Now they were down to one.

For only a second though.

Master Yoda grew tired. “Enough of this.”

When the Mandalorian fired its bolt at Yoda, he parried the bolt at a specific angle. The bolt wasn’t absorbed or redirected. It ricocheted against Master Yoda’s green blade and charged right back at the flying Mandalorian. It struck the Mandalorian in the chest and the last enemy fluttered on its jetpack before crashing head first into a nearby building.

Satisfied, Master Yoda sat back down upon his seat. “Coming, more are, but ahead, we are,” he said. “To the hanger and get the next ship right away, go straight to.”

The Duchess absorbed all that happened, but numbly nodded in Master Yoda’s decision. Anakin followed Satine’s directions and they came upon the international spaceport. Death Watch were not present as upon arriving. They were greeted by the Duchess’ loyal supporters, pilots and patrols alike.

“Duchess! You’re alive! We heard about the attack on the palace,” a worried supporter voiced.

“You’re injured!” came another cry. “Where’s the medkit?”

“Duchess! You’re safe! Death Watch—”

Satine nodded to all of them, acknowledging their concern for her well-being. “Death Watch is indeed attacking the capital,” Satine responded, scanning for a pilot. “I need a ship right away.”

One of the pilots at the spaceport nodded at once. “Yes, Duchess,” he said. “We have one ready just in case of these emergencies.”

Never say a Mandalorian wasn’t ready for the unexpected. Satine, Anakin and Master Yoda followed the pilot to a small carrier. It wasn’t flashy or grand. A good undercover ship to hide from attacking enemies. The Duchess was content.

“Thank you,” Satine said to the pilot as the mechanics on the floor started preparations for its departure. “Is there enough fuel to get to Coruscant?”

“Yes, Duchess,” came the swift response of the pilot. “Is that where we are heading to?”

“Not we,” Satine corrected the pilot and then gestured to Master Yoda and Anakin. “Them.”

Anakin shot his head. “ _What_?” he exclaimed, doubt lingering in the words that he spoke as if he didn’t quite hear her right. “No… no, you’re coming with me. Right?”

Satine gravely shook her head. Pieces of her heart flicking off. “I can’t Anakin. I have to stay with my people.”

Anakin stared crazily at her. “You can’t! They’ll kill you!”

It was a possibility. But, she could not abandon her people to the fate Senator Merrik promised. She would not let that happen without resistance. “If I leave, then Mandalore will fall and many more innocents will die,” Satine said to reason with Anakin.

It didn’t work. “They’ll kill you!” Anakin said louder, his eyes growing bigger and wetter. Cheeks flushed with hot veins of fear ripe inside him. “Don’t stay.”

Satine drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, containing the sadness that blued her soul. “I cannot leave my people to a fate worse than death, Anakin,” she said, taking a knee to speak to him directly. “What kind of leader am I if I flee upon first site of a challenge? I will not let Mandalore fall into the hands of these terrorists. I fear if I leave, then everything Mandalore has done to achieve peace will be lost forever.”

She placed her hands on either side of Anakin. “There is nothing more than I would like to do than to go with you,” she said her words raw with truth and trouble. “But I cannot. I have my duty to my people… and to you. You must go with Master Yoda to Coruscant. It’s your best chance.”

Anakin shook his head. “No—I’ll stay with you. I’ll help you free Mandalore,” Anakin clung onto Satine’s hand. His grip crushed Satine’s bones. “Like I did for Naboo.”

“These people are not the viceroy from the Trade Federation. They are not easily frightened,” Satine warned him. Death Watch were mighty warriors who lusted for blood and violence.

“I’m not afraid!”

Satine knew that. The young were never afraid. Invincible and immortal, the young believed. And that was how the young died. Satine maternally stroked Anakin’s cheek, rubbing away some dirt. “I know,” she said with her best attempt at a smile despite the bitter tears rising. “But, I made a promise to Obi-Wan that I would keep you safe. Do not make me break that promise.”

Anakin chest rose in giant waves. Hot air escaping his parted mouth. “But… I don’t want to leave you.”

“You have to,” Satine urged. “You must go, Anakin.”

“But I—”

Master Yoda’s gimer stick hit the floor like a gavel. “We need to go now.”

She nodded and gently pushed Anakin toward the opened ramp of the ship. “Go, Anakin! Go!”

Anakin dug his feet, resisting. “Come with me! Please!”

“My people need me.”

“ _I need you_!” sobbed Anakin. Tears streamed down his rosy cheeks, mingling with the dirt that it almost looked like Anakin’s tears were black.

The bitter rivalry of duty and love. Satine experienced all once before and left her scarred and bleeding. All stoic passivity forgone in favor of a broken expression. She thought watching Obi-Wan leave her was the worst thing she would ever feel. No—this was much worse. Despair had blackened her heart, leaving her in shivers as she failed to smile through the agony that coursed her very veins. Her blood like ice as she gave one last hug to Anakin Skywalker. That brilliant boy!

“Be brave, Anakin. Have courage in your heart and be good,” she murmured in his ears. “We shall see each other again.” Her words barely came out as she broke away, rising to her feet. “Now… go. Please? For me—please go!”

Sniffling, Anakin begrudgingly went up the ramp. His body was shaking. Satine didn’t know if he was cold or contorting from withheld sobs. She didn’t ask. She stood off to the side and watched with distressing hope as Master Yoda lead Anakin up through the last steps of the ramp. There was so much sorrow in the boy.

The ramp rose up, closing to seal its passengers for safe keeping. Before it sealed, Satine saw one last speck of blonde-brown hair and a cry, “Satine!”

The ramp sealed shut. The engines revved and the gravity locks were released. The ship hummed and wobbled as it rose in the air. The hanger steamed as the lights on the ship came to full power. Satine watched the ship hoover for a split second and then, in a blink of an eye, zoomed out of the hanger’s wide opening. 

As the ship skyrocketed to the sky and into space, Satine related to how Obi-Wan felt on that last day on Naboo. She had thought she burned her heart on that pyre when Obi-Wan departed from Mandalore all those years ago. She thought she was safe from pain. From true pain! But, she was utterly wrong. Witnessing Anakin’s tears streak his face as he called her name from the ramp, struck her heart in the most lethal way possible. She watched as the closest thing she had to a son be shipped away for his own protection, but already she was doused with regret and yearning and relief and hope. She wanted to hold Anakin one more time in her arms. One more time. But she knew even that would not be enough. She had to let him go. Obi-Wan entrusted her with Anakin’s safety and she fulfilled it. She sent him far away, under the protection of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy.

Anakin was safe and yet she cried all the same.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke to a splitting headache. He pressed his hand to his forehead to subdue the lingering agony that prickled across his forehead. Cautious, he peeled back a sliver of his eyelids, too heavy to open fully, and received a backlash of bright lights. He twisted away, pulling the sheets over his head.

Something stirred and Obi-Wan's sheet was being pulled away from his head. “Don’t do that,” came a worried voice overhead. The sheets slipped through Obi-Wan’s fingers, light pressuring against his closed eyes. “You won’t be able to breathe well under there.”

Carefully, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to absorb the light. The brightness overtook him for a few seconds, but his world smoothed out and darkened, and everything turned crystal clear. He was back in his room, an opened book on the bed. Obi-Wan quizzically stared at it. He did not remember falling asleep while reading. His eyes trailed along the edge of the bed, coming to a sudden halt when he discovered Qui-Gon sitting on the edge, looking down at him with flickers of concern shadowing his eyes.

Something happened. Obi-Wan rose up, head pounding against his skull in rebellion. He winced, falling back against the headboard. Qui-Gon guided him back to a horizontal position. “Don’t move, Obi-Wan,” he strongly advised. “Take your time.”

Obi-Wan groaned. His head hurt so much. “Master?” he mumbled. “My head hurts…”

“I know,” Qui-Gon said quietly and regretfully. “It’ll go away in good time, but you need to stop moving.”

Obi-Wan flipped his eyes up at Qui-Gon. “What happened?” he queried. He couldn’t remember. There was a blackout in his vault of memories. “Argh… I did something stupid, didn’t I?”

Qui-Gon chuckled at that comment, shaking his head lightly. “Somewhat, but that’s all in the past,” he said. “You’ll come out of it all right.”

“What did I do?”

“You did something brilliant,” Qui-Gon answered and he patted Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Rest, young one. We’ll talk more later.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m not tired,” he protested. “I just need this headache to go away.”

“Then sleep.”

The Force suggestion crept underneath his shield. It swarmed him and drugged his mind to looney. His eyes flickered open and closed, drifting as he became sluggish. He hated that feeling. It made him feel useless and vulnerable. He was losing control and he would have allowed it if something in the back of his mind didn’t scrambled to stay awake.

He rocked his head. Awake and then sleepily and then he turned alert. He slid his eyes from the ceiling to Qui-Gon, studying his Master’s portfolio. Impulsively, he used the Force to reach for his master’s presence. It always brought him relief to sense the warming and compassionate Jedi’s presence.

But he didn’t feel it.

It was something else.

A layer of ice greeted him, a shimmy of shivers running down his spine. Then a wave of scorched heat of passion and fear burned into him. It hurt that Obi-Wan retracted his presence away like he touched scaling water.

That was not the presence of his master. No, it was much darker and crueler…

His blank memories suddenly became colorful. Flashes of recollections fluttered through his mind, fickle emotions joined in as Obi-Wan seized upon the upload. He cringed, clutching the sides of his head.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s voice came barraging down on him. “Don’t move!”

He remembered being strapped down on a gurney. Poked and prodded by a droid before spiraling into an array of tortured sessions. Unable to move. Unable to escape as he endured engulfing agony. He was ripped physically and spiritually. Even the sanctuary of the Force did not save him from such brutality.

A hand fell on his sternum, holding him done. “Calm yourself.”

Obi-Wan swiped Qui-Gon’s hand off him and scrambled to get out of bed. Qui-Gon stopped him by catching his arms in an iron grip. Obi-Wan struggled to get out, throwing himself side to side in hoping Qui-Gon would relent.

He did not. “Stop, Obi-Wan!” he commanded. “Stop!” He sighed frustratingly at Obi-Wan’s refusal. “I’ll help you sit up, but you must not move! Okay? Can you do that?”

Obi-Wan, chest heaving from the hot air building up in his lungs, glared. After a moment of staring down at each other, Obi-Wan conceded. He would play the obedient prisoner until a better chance of rebellion arose.

Qui-Gon gradually eased Obi-Wan into a sitting position. He used the Force to slide a pillow behind Obi-Wan’s back before he cautiously leaned Obi-Wan onto it. “There,” Qui-Gon said, satisfied as he passed a glass to Obi-Wan. “Here. This will help you with the headache.”

Obi-Wan didn’t accept it. For all he knew, it was drugged.

Qui-Gon sensed his distrust. He raised the glass to his lips and took a drink. He swallowed. “It’s only water.”

He passed the glass back to Obi-Wan. But he didn’t take it. “No thank you,” he said, as his mind pounded like they heavy drumline in the Naboo celebration parade. “I do not wish to catch an illness.”

“Don’t be difficult, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon chided him. “What did I teach you? Accept help when needed.”

“But don’t accept if it requires you to forgo your beliefs or morals,” Obi-Wan added.

“Did I ask for anything in return, young one?”

A bile of anger lashed out from Obi-Wan’s tongue in an accusatory tone. “You tortured me!” he accused, wincing as his shout reverberated his already battered mind. “You purposefully hurt me!”

“I didn’t want to,” Qui-Gon offered as his condolence.

It was not enough for Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon kept telling him he was safe and that he wasn’t in danger. But he lied. Deceit was the way of the Sith. Obi-Wan should have known better. Qui-Gon didn’t truly care about him.

Obi-Wan huffed and crossed his arms. “Yet you did it anyway,” he spat. “What did you even do to me?”

Qui-Gon shifted himself on the bed, moving the book aside. “Nothing damaging,” he said, brushing it away. “You might feel a bit sore or scattered, but that will go away in time.”

“What. Did. You. Do?” Obi-Wan emphasized every word. No more distractions. No more lies. He wanted the truth. He remember seeing Anakin, speaking to him through the Force. It was impossible for him to do so though. He was too far away to contact Anakin through their bond. It wasn’t possible.

Qui-Gon sighed to begin his long explanation. “The procedure you underwent targeted your midichlorians and… _strengthened_ them,” he illuminated for Obi-Wan. “With that enhancement, you were able to expand your Force bond with Anakin. Meaning, you were able to connect with his mind from parsecs away.”

Obi-Wan’s heart banged against his ribs in frightful fear. “You… experimented on me?”

“No! No no no… no,” Qui-Gon shook his head. “We didn’t manipulate your midichlorians. We simply targeted the ones that were being unused.” Qui-Gon rubbed his beard in thought. “Short version is that the procedure unveiled your full potential. As you are probably very much aware, you and Anakin share one of the strongest Force bonds to ever exist. Mainly because of your combined midichlorian count.

“Nonetheless, it’s strong and the procedure helped you realize that full strength,” Qui-Gon clarified. “That full potential that you keep under lock and key. Go ahead! Try something. You’ll see that it is far easier than you’re used to.”

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon’s word for it. He did feel more connected to the Force than he did before, but he only thought it was because it was his only safe companion in the room.

“Not going try? Are you trying to spite me?” Qui-Gon inquired.

“No, Qui-Gon. Not everything I do or don’t do has anything to do with you,” Obi-Wan grunted, defiant as he looked at Qui-Gon in the eyes. “I am simply taking your word for it.”

Qui-Gon looked grateful. “Your headache will go away soon,” he promised. “Then you can get up and move around again. Maybe even spar a little bit.”

Only to fight his way out of this death trap, Obi-Wan thought. Headache still wrecking his concentration, he revisited his first ruling on that glass of water and asked Qui-Gon to pass it over. Qui-Gon willingly handed him the water and Obi-Wan drank it in full.

Almost immediately he began to feel better and the drumming in his head receded little by little. He sighed in relief as he tipped his head back against the headboard. “What happens next?”

“What do you mean?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I assume that there will be another round of torture,” Obi-Wan said casually and caustically. Like being tortured was the daily norm for him. “I’m sure Dooku would like to have a turn.”

“It’s _Count_ Dooku,” Qui-Gon reminded Obi-Wan. On Serenno, Dooku was a count and prided himself on such nobility. Obi-Wan, however, believed only the noble hearted deserved respective titles. But it was best to go along with the delusion than to be struck by lightning.

Qui-Gon readjusted himself and the bed dipped toward where he moved. “And no, he’s not interested in torturing you at the moment. He’s busy.”

“Deluding the Jedi Order and the Republic?” snarked Obi-Wan. “Playing the good, honorable Jedi despite the cracks showing in his visage?”

“No,” Qui-Gon said with a shake of his head. “He’s busy making arrangements for Anakin’s arrival.”

And Obi-Wan’s heart plunged into an icy lake in the middle of winter season on Hoth. “What?”

“We learned of Anakin’s location,” Qui-Gon responded. “We are fetching for him now. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprise if he was on his way home right now.”

Obi-Wan’s fist curled the fabric of his blanket into this palm. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

It was a lie. Some kind of trick to get him to release Anakin’s location. Neither Anakin nor Satine were in danger. They were safe. He knew it. Qui-Gon was lying to him. Obi-Wan pulled his lips in, right into a taut, straight line. The vault of secrets locked, secured by heavy shielding. Dubious, but the relaxed confidence Qui-Gon radiated nudged Obi-Wan with specks of fear fluttering though the Force.

Qui-Gon leaned down slightly so that they were at eye level. A manner of either respect or dominance. Obi-Wan was certain Qui-Gon was going for the latter. A demonstration to show a mightier hand than the one Obi-Wan clutched.

With a knowing, light grin, Qui-Gon began the game. “Tell me then,” he said. “How is the Duchess these days?”

The circulation to Obi-Wan’s heart froze. Not even a breath escaped his part mouth. A rippling shock paralyzed his body, soul and mind. An impossibility!

Yet, Qui-Gon sat with a righteous smirk tugging the corners of his beard. A glittering of the eyes that bespoke he knew very well of all that occurred. But, Obi-Wan had to dismiss that notion for Satine and Anakin’s sake. He must pretend. To deny everything and anything Qui-Gon threw at him. For their safety, he must lie!

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said with a shrug, trying to convey ignorance. “Haven’t seen her in years.”

That only made Qui-Gon smile widened, a clever arch of the brow folded lines along his forehead. “Really? Not even when she visited Naboo a few nights ago?”

Obi-Wan’s tried to quell his racing heart and keep his fickle emotions from highlighting his eyes. “Did she? I wasn’t aware.”

Qui-Gon relinquished a long sigh and rubbed his face. “Obi-Wan… it’s over,” he tiredly insisted. “We got visual confirmation that Anakin is on Mandalore. We sent a team to extract him. I’m certain he’ll be here in maybe an hour or two. That’s if everything went to according to plan.”

All the ice inside Obi-Wan thawed into a combustion of hot geyser. His heart panged unruly against his bony chest upon the haunting realization that both Satine and Anakin were in danger. Forgetting decorum and civility, Obi-wan lunged at Qui-Gon. He had got his hands wrapped around Qui-Gon’s neck. They toppled off the bed, the sheets twisting around Obi-Wan’s legs. Qui-Gon landed on his back, Obi-Wan on top and face burning.

No words spilled out. The fear and anger rumbled together in a blackout fight that silenced all thoughts, all reasoning. All Obi-Wan wanted to do was stop the madness. To stop them from harming Satine and Anakin.

It didn’t happen. While he caught Qui-Gon off guard with his lunge, Qui-Gon quickly rebounded and overtook him. He rolled Obi-Wan off him, snapped an arm behind his back and kept him pressed to the floor. Obi-Wan wiggled to get out of the grip, but then surrendered with limp limbs.

Qui-Gon still held him there. “What did I say about moving?” he chastised with disapproval. “Now—are you going to behave properly or do I need to give you a good swatting?”

Obi-Wan fumed at the belittling treatment, but acquiesced to behaving. Qui-Gon released his arm and helped him off the floor. He tried to guide Obi-Wan back to the bed, but Obi-Wan pivoted from the bed. He swayed himself over to the opposite side, placing the bed strategically in the middle as a border of protection.

“Why won’t you leave him alone?” Obi-Wan beseechingly questioned. “He’s only a boy!”

“He’s a boy now,” Qui-Gon pointed out, “but some day, he’s going to grow up and become the most powerful Force-sensitive in the galaxy. He needs proper training and instruction in the Force.”

“He needs a caring, healthy environment to grow!” Obi-Wan challenged. “You and Dooku only want to corrupt his mind so that he can be your attack dog!”

Qui-Gon mouth pulled as he thinned his lips. Certainly not pleased by the description as he evenly responded with his own allegation. “What of you, Obi-Wan? What were your plans for Anakin?”

“I was giving Anakin his best chance at a life he deserved!”

“And that includes squandering his potential?” Qui-Gon countered with a snap retort. “Just so you could play house with the Duchess?”

Obi-Wan recoiled from Qui-Gon’s words. But he didn’t cower. He held himself steady, every muscle nerve ready to spring into action as he steely gazed at the Sith Lord. “My _friendship_ with the Duchess—”

Qui-Gon swatted Obi-Wan’s words with a dismissive wave. “You don’t need to lie to me. _I know_ , Obi-Wan,” he said as his tone gotten softer around the edges. “I know of your feelings for her.”

The words tumbled off his tongue in a flaring denial despite his attempt to remain steady and impassive. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Qui-Gon’s Force signature pressured against Obi-Wan’s shield, attempting to slide underneath he dome he created. But it was to no avail. Obi-Wan held firm. Not ruffled by the rebuff, Qui-Gon hooked his fingers on his belt, pensive and calm. “You always had a vulnerable heart,” Qui-Gon simply said like he was telling Obi-Wan the sky was blue. “I’ve always known about your affair.”

Obi-Wan felt heat rising up on the back of his neck. He couldn’t have known. He was careful. _They_ _were careful!_  Yet, Qui-Gon knew. Despite Obi-Wan’s efforts to hide his growing affection for Satine, Qui-Gon learned of his love for the Mandalorian Duchess.

The Sith Lord noted Obi-Wan acceptance of the truth. No more lies or denials to obstacle over. Qui-Gon continued speaking. “In fact, I supported it,” he said with eyes alight as he freely gestured to Obi-Wan with a head tilt. “She was a gift to you after all.”

What?

"A gift?" Obi-Wan tripped over the word like it was foreign to him.

Qui-Gon affirmed with a single nod. "You were lonely, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said as a way to explain, taking a step forward. “Sulking around the palace and always asking to return to Coruscant to see friends.” He let out a small sigh before adding. “But that couldn’t happen for obvious reasons.”

Every step Qui-Gon took forward, Obi-Wan took one backwards. The Sith Lord caught the unease and settled to a stop, offering no more intrusion. He continued his tale. “I realized that you were a teenager with certain needs,” he carried on, oblivious to the reddening cheeks that crept back on Obi-Wan’s face. “When the Council passed along the Mandalore mission, I immediately accepted upon Dooku’s approval.

“The mission required us to protect the young Duchess—a teenager of the same age! It was perfect,” Qui-Gon said, sounding happy and relieved. But then he resigned. “Of course the two of you stumbled. Tempers flared and for a moment, I reconsidered the whole situation and have Dooku pick you up.

“But then, things simmered between you and the Duchess and… well, something blossomed,” Qui-Gon’s tensed worry fell with a sigh. “I excused myself multiple times to allow you and the Duchess some alone time. And while away, I established a business deal with the people that now formally call themselves Death Watch.”

Qui-Gon leaned heavily against the bed’s footboard, turning his head to look squarely at Obi-Wan. “The mission was a success overall,” he concluded with a glittering pride swelling in his Force presence. “We established allies within Mandalore. Death Watch through my negotiations and the Duchess’s reign through you. And on the plus side, you got to experience true companionship.

“So—yes,” Qui-Gon finally said to erase any lingering doubt. “Duchess Satine was a gift to you so that you wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.”

Obi-Wan had no words to say. The confession—the knowledge!—was like a double punch to the gut and face. He had visibly jerked back from Qui-Gon, stumbling on his legs. Horror constricted him like an ugly dianoga snaking up over his chest and squeezing him to death. He nearly lost his vitality from the shocking tale.

He thought back to Satine. She was her own supernova that kept him warm during cold nights. The sun to his moon for she carried sweet, loving moments. Her image alone brought a spark of life to him. His love for her was pure and golden. A bright band of light in the Force.

But, devastating details of Qui-Gon’s story brought a dark cloud to his light. Suddenly, Satine’s warm image faded to grey, leaving a desolate shadow. Every happy memory was tainted. The rich and pure light grew heavy. A dark tentacle wrapping every last ray of hope and love and happiness and twisting into a disfigured mess.

Everything about his love for Satine was now tainted with the Dark Side.

Breathing unsteadily, Obi-Wan reached a hand to the wall as his last grasp on gravity. “Y-You manipulated me,” he muttered, still reining from the news. “You… you _used_ me!”

Qui-Gon rose from the bed’s frame. “No—all I did was give you a chance to love. To indulge in a bit of passion.”

Breathe. Keep breathing. “You accepted the mission in hopes I would get laid?” he said, a brewing hailstorm funneling within the Force. “In hopes that my love would twist my thinking in agreement with yours?”

Qui-Gon must have sensed the thunderous anger. His tone was gentle and soft, like a song floating through the wind. “I only wanted to show you what the Jedi were denying you. There is more to life—more to the Force!—than what the Jedi preach.”

The room started to close in on him, pushing him into a tight corner with little to no chance of escaping. His shoulders drooped and his skin prickled as blood went cold. The Dark Side was circling him.

Qui-Gon looked concerned. “You’re pale,” he observed. “Come! Let’s get you back to the bed—”

Obi-Wan snapped back from Qui-Gon’s grasp. “All this time, I’ve been nothing more than a pawn,” he said in long draughts of breaths meant to keep his voice from cracking. “You _used_ me! You played on my heart!”

“I did no such thing,” Qui-Gon quietly argued. “I only opened it to possibilities.”

“So that I may wound myself and bleed,” snapped Obi-Wan, the storm awakening. “That’s what you wanted right? For me to fall in love with her and then when it was time to leave, become resentful and angry. To blame the Jedi for my misery.”

An irritated sigh huffed out from Qui-Gon. “I never told you anything about her,” he reminded his old padawan. “Did I ever discouraged you from loving her? No. I did not. The Jedi would have, but I did not.”

Another manipulation. Obi-Wan shook his head in distraught. It hurt. It hurt so much to feel. It spun around him like a tight cocoon, sealing him up in a battered shell. Every hit struck accurately and powerfully. Enough to leave him a bruise in the Force.

Qui-Gon had officially twisted every good thing he had and tainted it. He destroyed everything Obi-Wan loved and believed in. Nothing gold stayed.

Slowly, Obi-Wan lifted his head, tormented. “Why do you _hate_ me?”

The mercurial shift in Qui-Gon was surprising. Perturbed leapt in his eyes as he stared wounded from the blow of Obi-Wan’s desperate cry. “I-I don’t hate you, Obi-Wan,” he stammered, still overcome by the accusation. “How could you say that? Everything I have ever done was for you. You don’t see it now, but you will soon. I promise!”

Promise. Qui-Gon once promise to uphold the Jedi Code, to instruct a padawan into Knighthood and to have compassion. He didn’t keep a single one. Obi-Wan doubted he could keep another.

Still trembling and straining from the agony that tore him apart, Obi-Wan retreated from Qui-Gon. “You’re a monster,” he uttered and Qui-Gon’s flamed eyes extinguished into a somber pool. “I don’t know who you are anymore. I-I guess I never did.”

Qui-Gon didn’t give up. “I’m still the same master—”

"No, you're not!" Obi-Wan shouted. His voice a whip cracking the room to silence. "My master would never torture me like this. He cared about my well-being. He had compassion!" He had no strength to keep speaking. Not to this monster. The Sith Lord only fed on his despair and it hardly affected him. At last, Obi-Wan only had a few parted words left for a man he cared to never see again.

"Get out."

Qui-Gon favored him with a censorious brow. "Obi-Wan, you have no authority to eject me."

A futile attempt. Obi-Wan knew he had no actual claim to command the Sith Lord of anything. But it was what he desperately needed. So, he had to make his own. "Fine," came his stiff response.

Obi-Wan had retreated far enough to leap into the refresher in time before Qui-Gon could stop him. Obi-Wan slapped the pad with his palm and watched the refresher door shut in Qui-Gon’s face. Obi-Wan quickly locked it and backed away toward the shower. With no vitality in his limbs left to hold him up, Obi-Wan collapsed on the tiled floor, scooting back to the furthest corner of the small refresher. He climbed into the shower and closed the sliding, window door with a flick of his hand.

He could hear Qui-Gon pounding on the door, demanding him to open it. Obi-Wan would not. He would not let that monster in his only sanctuary. Funny. The refresher had now become Obi-Wan’s only escapism. His only refuge within the dark palace.

Maybe not funny. No, it was sad. Very sad.

Obi-Wan shivered, pulling his legs close to his chest. He would never feel warm again. Everything was gone. His love for Satine… once pure and full of light had been touched by darkness, black ink corrupting the fine shine. Everything he held close to his heart had rotten, turned to dust, and left him an empty shell.

There was nothing left for Obi-Wan to do other than quietly mourned his loss.


	28. Chapter 28: Relinquishing Power

**Chapter 28: Relinquishing Power**

**WARNING:** Torture ahead

* * *

 Obi-Wan stayed inside the refresher for two hours. Only because that was how long it took for Qui-Gon to give up. Qui-Gon stood outside the refresher door, speaking through the door to coax Obi-Wan out. He tried apologizing. Then followed up with reasoning and pleading, but Obi-Wan didn't budge from where he sat. He assumed Qui-Gon would Force open the door, but he didn't. For a man that violated his trust and heart, he showed respect in the oddest places.

When he sensed Qui-Gon's muddied Force presence dissipate from the room, he emerged from the refresher. Obi-Wan scanned the room, making sure Qui-Gon was truly gone before he fully stepped out from his sanctuary. The room was quiet. Not a single sound haunted the room. Only the soft pats of his feet were heard.

He made his way across the room, straight to the window. There was nothing spectacular. Nothing he hasn't seen before: a serrated mountain belt with thick forests sweeping the sides and sprawling onto the flatlands. Considered beautiful to a normal eye, but from Obi-Wan's viewpoint, it was a source of taunting. The mountain peaks, like arrow tips, resembled a barricade. Forever keeping him locked onto the land. A reminder that he was trapped.

He backed away from the window. Irritation rattled him. The Force prickled in retaliation and Obi-Wan decided he needed to meditate to free himself from those bothersome effects. He plopped down on the floor, folding his legs into the perfect formation. He breathed deep through his nostrils and waded back into the Force.

The Force was rougher than normal. The waves were fiercer than the usual gentle lapping. A reflection of his state of mind, Obi-Wan imagined. He took another deep breath, slowly releasing it. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again. The Force began to smooth out, quelling the storm. All the anger and sadness that muddied his mind leaked out, streaming into the Force and leaving him feeling lighter.

Obi-Wan exhaled. With quiet focus, he brought himself back to thinking of Anakin. He sensed the supernova power across the Force. He felt himself being drawn to it, to relieve himself from the cold depths and enter a bright and warm embrace. Anakin always had that way about him. The boy was too full of light to emit anything but warmth: in either compassion or passion.

Obi-Wan hoped Anakin was safe. Qui-Gon's threats despaired Obi-Wan with an overwhelming doomed anxiety. He could not let them have Anakin. Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to live if Dooku and Qui-Gon succeeded in turning Anakin into a Sith. Heart break would consume him alive to see gold rings of fire in Anakin's eyes rather than the vibrant blue. Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi would die if Anakin turned down the dark path.

Drawing closer to Anakin's presence, he sensed a great deal of sorrow and fear. A black cloud circling around the Anakin's presence, twisting into a vortex and threatening to upend the galaxy itself. The surge of power welling within that misery, yearning and reaching out to the only source it knew best.

Him.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan headed to the wraith that sucked the hope out of Anakin. He broke through the thunderous cloud, finding Anakin's presence in the center as expected. He was huddled in a ball, cowering under the fear. Obi-Wan dropped a knee, hand sliding over Anakin. He pulled Anakin close, shielding the boy from the strong currents of anger which pulled the light from Anakin's Force. Once Obi-Wan sheltered Anakin, sending calming vibes to quell the storm before them.

The Force shifted. The Darkness ebbed away as Light streamed into the center, spotlighting them both in pleasant warmth. A surge of relief fluttered between them, a great rest from the distress they shared. For some reason—Obi-Wan could not say—he started to hum. It was an old tune. One he heard before from another. A tune that often brought him comfort during his dark moments. He hummed and Anakin's temperament soothed to a calmer presence. The storm clouds adrift.

_Obi-Wan?_

Obi-Wan stopped humming. Anakin was calling to him again. The soft whisper ghosting across their bond, brought a moment of bliss. Until an oily presence circled them. It's ill tendrils stretching to them, penetrating Obi-Wan's meditation. Getting closer and closer to Anakin's bright presence.

Realizing the invasion, Obi-Wan abandoned his dome. He shut down his connection with Anakin, building a shielded wall that sheltered Anakin's from the Dark Side's wraith. Obi-Wan failed to stop Qui-Gon from abusing his Force bond with Anakin the first time, but he wasn't going to let it happen again. He closed up, shutting down all of his connections with Anakin.

Obi-Wan had just pulled out of his meditation when the door hissed open. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, backing away from the door to distance himself as Dooku strode into the room. His strides generated ruffles on the Sith's cloak and he swept a quick gaze around the room until he spotted Obi-Wan backing into the furthest point from the door.

Dooku halted his precession, roaming a critical eye over Obi-Wan. Since they met last, Dooku promised retaliation for his revelations to the Council. Damned the consequences he faced, Obi-Wan's own concerns revolved around Anakin. Last he heard, Dooku was arranging Anakin's arrival to this hellhole.

Not forgetting his lessons, Obi-Wan curtly bowed before Dooku. He didn't say anything. He remembered the times Dooku reminded him that he was to not talk unless spoken to. To his luck, Obi-Wan didn't have to wait long for Dooku to speak.

"You're still here," Dooku noted.

Obi-Wan raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Where else would I be?"

A touch of ire reached those dark eyes. "I said the same thing seven years ago," Dooku said. "I admit I underestimated you back then, but recent betrayals have made me wiser. Stronger." Dooku stared intently at Obi-Wan. "I will no longer doubt _you_."

Flattery or a threat, Obi-Wan could not tell. Possibly both. Dooku did admire those who showed incredible talent, but that admiration didn't spare them from death. Or torture. Obi-Wan was quite familiar with the latter during his days on Serenno prior to meeting Anakin. However, Dooku wouldn't considered it torture. Just… a painful lesson.

Dooku brushed his cloak. "I am in need of your assistance," he addressed to Obi-Wan. "It will require you to leave this room, so I ask you to accompany me without trying to escape or cause any damages. Do you think you can manage?"

Leaving the room was ample opportunity for Obi-Wan to read out the layout of his new home, to strategize the quickest escape points from his prison. As for the assistance part of the request, Obi-Wan's heart tingled in dire anticipation. What possible assistance did Dooku need of him? He was the most powerful Sith Lord alive!

"What do you need of me?" Obi-Wan questioned in a tone that did not please Dooku.

"Your cooperation, for now," Dooku claimed before he eyed him wisely. "Or will I need to resort to binders?"

"That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said, still distrustful as to what Dooku could possibly need of him. "I will follow your lead."

For now, Obi-Wan added as an afterthought.

Satisfied in securing a promise, Dooku beckoned Obi-Wan to follow. Obi-Wan left his confines and to his surprise, found no squadron of droids awaiting him. It was only him and Dooku. While Dooku clearly stated he shared no more doubts about him, he sure still contained his arrogance. To think the need for back-up unnecessary meant he still underestimated Obi-Wan. Something he kept in his mind for when he planned out his next escape.

Dooku led him down many corridors and into a turbolift. Not once did they encounter any servants or droids. It was almost as if they were the only two things staying within the Serenno palace. Obi-Wan thoughts strayed to Qui-Gon. Surely he was around, unless he was already at the destination he was heading to. Maybe with Anakin.

Dooku glanced over at him and Obi-Wan quickly reinforced his shields. Dooku was apt at mind-reading, his Force signature like a sharp blade that easily sliced down any barriers it wanted. But Obi-Wan was surprised again to discover Dooku didn't thrust his knife into the mental barriers. He let him be. Peculiar and unnerving.

Obi-Wan was stopped in front of a door at the end of the long corridor. With the Force, Dooku opened the heavy door and they stepped inside the dark, ambient room. It was a simple room. Nothing like the rest of the palace. No signs of any opulence. None of Dooku's tasteful accommodation. In fact, Obi-Wan found it belonged more in the Jedi Temple than Dooku's palace.

The only thing that turned Obi-Wan's attention was a massive, dark window. Or a sheet of black glass. Strange to Obi-Wan as to why there was sleek black on the wall. What was it for?

Dooku brought Obi-Wan to stand right in front of the glass. Obi-Wan tilted his head, peering at the dark glass in puzzlement. Was he supposed to see something? Was this another test? Was Anakin somewhere nearby? His heart thumped in rapid successions at the thought of Anakin trapped behind the glass. Alone and afraid. The stint in the Force reminded Obi-Wan of the last feelings he sensed from Anakin. Fear and sorrow.

Obi-Wan flashed a look to Dooku. "What is this? Why am I here?"

Dooku did not say a word. He abandoned Obi-Wan to stand in front of the window as he moved across to the side of the room. There was a panel beside the window. Dooku pressed one of the buttons.

Obi-Wan didn't know what to expect when Dooku pressed the button. Upon the click, the black blinked to a transparent window. Obi-Wan studied the hidden room. It was bright white, reminding Obi-Wan of a clinical healing ward. Sterilized and crowded with equipment that surrounded a single figure that was held locked in the center of the room.

The figure must have noticed it was being watched for it raised its head.

Obi-Wan was struck by a bolt of recognition. The circulation of blood flow frozen and mind fried upon the sight of silver-gold hair and crystal, blue eyes.

A terrified breath wisped from his mouth. "Satine."

* * *

 Anakin tuned everyone out.

He felt Obi-Wan's presence. He broke through the torrent fear and a surge of familial love conquered Anakin's anxieties. The darkness retreated. The light returned and Anakin nuzzled in the blanket Obi-Wan draped over him.

"Obi-Wan?" he murmured quietly to the Force. Was he safe? Was he okay? Anakin didn't know, but in that moment amongst the streams of the Force, he felt secured. In that moment of time, he and Obi-Wan were safe and happy.

That was until Anakin sensed a disturbance. A dark presence oozed seeped outside their circle of shelter, circling them. Anakin squeezed his hold on Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan reacted differently. Rather than press close to Anakin, he pulled away. Anakin tried to snatch Obi-Wan's Force presence, thinking: _Don't leave me_.

But the mental shields closed, snapping shut, and both Obi-Wan and the dark presence vanished.

Anakin withdrew from the Force, slugging in his seat in the corner of the medical bay of the Halls of Healing in the Jedi Temple. Bant, Obi-Wan's old friend, was in the room with him, discussing medical information with the head healer. They didn't noticed the sadness Anakin succumbed to.

Anakin dropped his head. _I hope he's all right._

A hand gently squeezed Anakin's shoulder, bringing him back to focus. Anakin looked up to see Healer Che examining him. She scanned his newly cleaned face for the second time that day.

The red light covered his face and a loud chirped informed the healer that the scan was done. Healer Che read the results, lips tight in a straight line. "Healthier than your last visit here," she muttered. "You need a vitamin boost."

Before Anakin could object to being stabbed with a needle, a sharp prick broke his skin and a bubble of blood formed over the punctured wound. Anakin hissed. He never liked being poked or prodded. Even as a child, Obi-Wan basically wrestled him to the floor in order to inject him with the Balmorra flu vaccine.

Shortly afterwards, Anakin was discharged and given a bed within the crèche on other younglings his age. Like last time, he sat on the low sleep mattress and said nothing. The same younglings googled him with newfound interest than last time. News must have spread amongst the children about the "adventure" Anakin endured the past few days.

The younglings didn't speak to him. Not even that Ferus boy that hassled him last week. They kept their distance from him and muttered rumors out of earshot. When night covered the city skyscrapers, Anakin fell into a fitful sleep. Dreams mixed with nightmares which left Anakin distressed. Obi-Wan was there. In the nightmares and dreams. Tears streaming down his face and prostrated on his knees, Anakin watched him sway between the light and dark. A confusion binding him into a troubled future.

He woke up early in cold sweat, panting as other younglings stirred in their cots by the disturbance. The master in charge scurried down the rows of sleep mattress to where Anakin was wide awake and shaking.

"Hush, youngling," the master tried to coo him to sleep. Her voice agitated Anakin. Her tone wasn't soothing like Obi-Wan's or Satine's. It was demanding. An order to be quiet, to ignore what he saw behind closed eyes.

"I saw Obi-Wan!" Anakin cried, clutching on the blanket for some stability. "I saw him!"

The master shushed him again. "It was only a dream, young one. They pass in time."

Anakin shook his head. "No—it wasn't a dream! I saw him!"

The master failed to settle Anakin and his anxiety in the Force upended every Force being in the room and in the next room. She comm the Master Yoda for assistance. Half an hour later, Anakin found himself standing in his sleep clothes in the middle of a circled group.

Members of the Jedi Council critically examined him with uplift brows. It was clear they did not like waking up in the night to humor a crying child. Anakin uneasily stared at each face. There were two people he did not recognize from his last interrogation. The serious dark skinned man that sat beside Master Yoda was replaced with an elderly woman with snow-white hair and a crinkled frown. The other spot that was replaced was Dooku. Sitting in his chair was a tall, green Nautolan with large black eyes that almost looked like space itself.

Anakin shivered from the cold that lingered from the nightmare. His gaze shifted from one face to the next, until his eyes landed on Master Yoda. The little, green Jedi was perched in his chair, looking wearier than before.

"Disturbed by a dream, Master Krav said you were," Master Yoda said.

Anakin shook his head. "It wasn't a dream!" he argued. Obi-Wan never questioned what he saw at night. He always held him and listened. Why won't anyone listen to him? "I know the difference between a dream and a vision."

The Council all murmured to one another. Master Yoda hummed. He too knew Anakin knew the difference. After all, he was there on Mandalore. "Of your vision tell us."

"I saw Obi-Wan. He was on his knees. Crying," Anakin told Master Yoda. "That's… that is all I saw."

The Council looked to one another with grim faces. The news of his vision was disturbing, but not expected. After all, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a hostage to the Sith Lords. One would expect pain and suffering to be part of their hospitality.

But that didn't mean it shamed Master Yoda. "Feel his suffering you do," he muttered. "Sad, it makes you."

More than sadness, Anakin quietly said to his thoughts. A part of himself was dying. But, Anakin only responded with a nod.

The creature with the long head spoke. "Visions do not define the truth, young one," he warned. "Be wary of what you see."

That was their response? Tell him to not trust what he saw—what he _felt_ —at all? Did they not care at all that Obi-Wan was being tortured? Anakin's hands curled into fists. "I saw him! I felt him!" he screamed. "It was real! He was in pain. Suffering." Anakin glared at all of them, temper rising from his heart to his face. No one single face broke character. All wore the same iron-clad facial expression. Everyone but Master Yoda.

Anakin hated them for it. "This is all your fault!" he roared, blood pulsing loudly in his head. "You didn't listen to him! He told you everything and you ignored him!"

The loud accusations caused many to flinch or scowl in retaliation. One even cursed under its breath and another scorned Anakin.

One jabbed a finger in his direction. "Mind your tongue, boy!"

Anakin would not. "You damned him!" he snapped back. "He's being tortured because you chose to be stupid!"

Another Jedi sat upright, red in the face. "The Council did not gather here in the middle of the night for a temper tantrum or blame!"

"No—you're just advising me to ignore Obi-Wan," Anakin sneered. "Like you did all those years ago! Well—I won't! I won't abandoned him like you all did!"

Anakin stormed away from the circle. He head straight to the massive door, expecting it to open upon arrival. It did not. Anakin whirled on his heels, eyes focused on Master Yoda.

"Open the doors!" he demanded.

Master Yoda's shoulders sagged. "Not yet, little one."

Not yet? Anakin would not wait. It was quite clear the Jedi didn't learn from their mistakes. That they were emotionless scums of the galaxy. "Let me go! You can't hold me here against my will!" he shouted, glancing from one Council member to the next. "I'll call Padme! I'll call the Senate!"

That didn't unnerve Master Yoda at all. "Save him running off to rescue Obi-Wan will not," he said. "Only hurt him, it will. You know this."

Anakin wanted to deny it. He could save Obi-Wan from the Sith Lords. He did it before. He could do it again. But something in the pit of his stomach warned him that this time around was different. He couldn't walk onto a spaceship and rescue Obi-Wan. But, he denied it.

"I won't stay here and not do anything!" Anakin retorted. "I won't make your mistakes."

"Made, mistakes were. To Obi-Wan I take full blame of what happens," Master Yoda confessed. His voice sounding much older and weaker as he spoke. A loss of light within his irises. "My fault he is in their hands, is it. For that my arrogance and ignorance sealed his fate and, sorry, I am sorry." He dropped his head, leaning heavily on his gimer stick for support he could no longer hold himself. "But let his mission fail, I will not. Stay where you are safe, you will."

"But what about Obi-Wan? How are we going to save him?" Anakin questioned. He wanted to save him. He didn't care about himself. He only cared about saving Obi-Wan.

"We will," promised Depa Billaba, her tone nearly convincing Anakin to trust them. "But running head on will not do anyone good. Even less for Obi-Wan and yourself. These are Sith Lords, young one. They will not be easy to beat."

"We don't need to beat them. Just save Obi-Wan!"

"Winning against the Sith Lord is saving young Kenobi," came the hissing voice of a masked Jedi. "The Sith will not easily let Kenobi go. Especially not after all the effort they put in to capture him… and you."

Anakin picked the ends of his sleeves. "Then how do we beat them?"

Master Yoda removed himself from his gimer stick. "Patience," he answered. "Come from the Force, the answer will."

The Force! Why was the Force always the answer to every single problem? What if the Force couldn't answer? What then? Do they keep waiting? Or do they make their own decisions? Anakin began to think that the time to rely on the Force was no longer useful.

It was time to make his own choice.

And he chose to save Obi-Wan.

So he looked at Master Yoda and lied. "Then I guess I'll trust the Force."

* * *

 Obi-Wan tentatively stepped forward, closer to the window. His eyes were deceiving him. Reason insisted that what he saw couldn't be true. His imagination running wild! It was a random woman strapped to a chair on the other side of the glass. Not Satine.

He reached the glass. There was no mistake in those blue eyes. Satine—the love of his life—sat on the opposite side. Directly in front of him with raggedy hair and a bruised cheek from a previous struggle.

Obi-Wan clung to his sides, pinching the skin between his ribs as his fingers dug into the grooves between his bones. Too many emotions ripped through his mind, his shielding slipping underneath its rapture. Obi-Wan breathed heavily, every effort a force of difficulty to not breakdown.

He felt Dooku watching him, studying and analyzing his reactions. The Sith Lord was graceful on his feet as he moved to stand beside Obi-Wan. "She's beautiful," he purred. "Such pretty eyes."

It took all his willpower to turn away from Satine to Dooku. "What is the meaning of this?" Obi-Wan demanded, trying his best to not give Dooku the pleasure of breaking him.

Dooku's lips curled high up his face. Enjoyment fluttering across his eyes. "She's a friend of yours, is she not?" he asked with mock innocent. "Perhaps even more?"

"You know what we are to each other," Obi-Wan snapped at him, no longer interested in playing his little shadow games. He was quite aware Qui-Gon informed Dooku of his and Satine's affair long ago. "Why is she here?"

Dooku raised a censorious brow. "She's here… because _you_ are here," he answered and he looked to the window, watching the droids injected an IV into her arm. "I thought you would be happy?"

Obi-Wan ground his teeth together. "I would be far happier if you remove her from that room."

And for some reason, Dooku grinned. "That is why I need your assistance," he said, pulling out a small handheld comlink. He pressed down on the talk button. "Initiate stage one."

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked from Dooku to Satine. The droids moved around Satine, working the machinery that were hooked into Satine. Obi-Wan fidgeted on the spot as he eyed the droids in their programmed work. As to what they were programmed for was what worried Obi-Wan the most.

"What are they doing?" he asked. A question he feared the answer. But the wait was intolerable. He needed to know. Now!

Dooku leaned down and whispered. "Patience, Kenobi. You will see soon."

And he did. Seconds after Dooku uttered those terrible words, a green compound liquid was injected into the IV. Obi-Wan watched as the chemical flowed through the plastic portal and straight into Satine's bloodstream.

At first, Satine only winced. Then she jerked. Eventually, it grew into a raging seizure. She contorted and twisted. Face screwed up as she bit down on her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Lurching in her seat, she attempted to break away from the IV to not avail. The straps prevented her from going anywhere.

Obi-Wan was stunned. Eyes tearing at the sight of Satine withering under the effects of the chemical the droids injected into her, his heart wrangled inside his rib cage with distraught. The teeth marks left red blood bruises on her bottom lip. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, the lasting effect from the chemical compound. A soft whimper choked from her throat.

Obi-Wan had seen enough. He charged for the door, but Dooku yanked him back. Fingernails pinched into the back of his neck and the other hand grasped firmly on his arm. "The show's not over yet," Dooku announced and he let go of Obi-Wan's arm to draw up the comlink again. "Proceed onto the next stage."

The droids nodded and a procured a vibro knife. Using the knife, they ripped opened one of the Duchess's sleeves, revealing the soft, milky pale skin underneath. Tender arm, unblemished by any harm. Obi-Wan's heart pounded violently in his chest as the knife came down upon Satine's shoulder.

The droid, with great accuracy, drew the knife down. Satine gasped in pain, eyes round upon the sight of blood streaming down her arm from the open flesh wound. She cried out, the burning sensation overtaking her. The droid brought the knife up again and this time, instead of going down, went across her shoulder and toward her exposed neck, stopping short of the esophagus.

Blood gushed like a waterfall over limestone. Smooth and clean, staining everything in red. Satine's lips trembled, her body still shaking at the sight of the knife coming down on her again. The droid brought it down along her backside. Satine screamed.

And Obi-Wan screamed with her. "No! No… please! Stop!" he begged. "She didn't do anything!"

Satine screamed again as they brought the knife right under her arm and cut downwards.

Obi-Wan ripped his eyes away and looked to Dooku. "Stop!" he pleaded with the Sith Lord. "Please—torture me! Hurt me!"

Dooku merely glimpsed at Obi-Wan. "Aren't I already?"

Obi-Wan looked at the Sith Lord before him. The dawning realization of the situation hitting him smack in the face. This was not Satine's torture… it was his. This was Dooku's revenge for his confessions to the Council. This was all a punishment for Obi-Wan.

Oh Satine! Obi-Wan was wracked with guilt as another piercing scream enveloped him. It was his fault. He lured her straight to the Sith Lords. Brought them upon her doorstep and made her a sacrificial lamb. This was his fault. He had sentenced Satine to this cruel fate.

The droids had stopped the cutting and moved onto the next stage. They brought over an electrostaffs. No hesitation, they jabbed the end of the electrostaff right into Satine's gut. She shrieked as blue-purple sparks danced along her curved body, twisting away to the best of her ability before another jolt of electricity hit her from the other side.

Obi-Wan shook his head, lost on what to do. He had to free her! He couldn't let Dooku and the droids poke and prod her to death. The guilt ate his heart, blackening his soul upon every scream and cry that escaped from Satine's mouth.

"Please Dooku," Obi-Wan beseeched, looking up at the regal Sith Lord. Dooku didn't look away from the spectacle. Too immersed with the fear and suffering to even glance at Obi-Wan. "What must I do to stop this madness?"

Dooku favored a thought. "I think you already know."

Obi-Wan's eyebrow furrowed at the lack of response. He was prepared to snatch Dooku by the collar of his cloth and demand a direct answer when he realized he did know the answer.

The fear, pain and anger all swirled around Obi-Wan, wrapping him up in a foggy state of mind. So much confusion warped his mind. Everything grey. No light. No darkness. Simply grey. He was treading on a dangerous path. A single wrong move and he would be lost forever.

Obi-Wan tried to retreat further into the Force to gain clarity, but only found insanity. There was nothing for him to rely on. Only what he saw and what he felt and what he knew. And Satine's screams and bloodied face was enough for him to know he could not escape the path that laid before him.

But he tried one more time. "Please—have mercy," Obi-Wan pleaded in his last ditched hope.

Dooku sighed, disappointed. "Mercy will not save your lover."

Obi-Wan shut his eyes, unable to watch what he proceeded to do next. "Then… then accept me," he offered, raising Dooku on the stakes. "Accept my duty and honor."

The Sith Lord idly surveyed him. His presence prickling up against Obi-Wan's mental shielding, a shiv sliding underneath for entrance. With great difficulty, Obi-Wan relinquished and deconstructed his shielding.

He winced upon the brutality Dooku released onto him. Dooku mercilessly rummaged through his mind—his memories—as he investigated into Obi-Wan's past. Flashes of happier times with Anakin came across his mind, along with his fondness for Satine and the isolation that plagued him as a boy.

Obi-Wan endured Dooku's ruthless raid until the Sith Lord's presence pulled out of his mind, leaving a sharp prickle across his forehead. Dooku clasped his hands behind his back, satisfied with what he found.

"Kneel," commanded Dooku.

Regrettably, but without resistance, Obi-Wan kneeled before his grandmaster. Dooku's dropped a hand on his head, fingers latching onto his auburn strands. It didn't hurt, but that didn't mean Obi-Wan was uncomfortable. He stayed kneeled on the floor before Dooku, chin to his chest as Dooku took in his victory.

Finally, the Sith Lord spoke. "May the Force be with you."

Then, the fingers pinched tighter on the strands and Obi-Wan's head was jerked back so that Obi-Wan met those brimstone eyes. "First and last warning," he intoned. "Cross either me or Qui-Gon again and it will be the last thing you will ever do."

Obi-Wan tried to swallow but his throat was too arid. All he did was hoarsely reply. "I understand, Master."

Dooku tilted his head, mouth stretching in a smug grin. He reveled in Obi-Wan's surrender. "Good," he said and he retrieved the comlink from his pocket. He pressed the button and talked. "You may cease all activities."

The droids stopped their massacre on Satine, back-pedaling away from the Duchess as she laid limp in her seat. Obi-Wan took no time to rescue her. He snagged Dooku's cloak and ripped it right off the man's chain link. Dooku admonished with decry of the uncouth behavior, but Obi-Wan didn't care. He bolted to the door, using the Force to open both his door and the one holding Satine. The droids who handled Satine backed away from the oncoming storm.

Obi-Wan reached for Satine, unbuckling her binds to free her from the confines of the chair. "Satine?" he whispered. "Satine? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes blinked up in confusion, disoriented. She stared at him, unsure if what she saw was real or a dream. "Obi-Wan?" her cracked voice murmured.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm getting you out of here," he said as he freed her from the last bindings that kept her prisoner. With the last bind off, he threw Dooku black cloak over Satine's limp body before he lifted her out of the seat. Satine's head rolled back before Obi-Wan readjusted it for her to fit right against the crook of his shoulder.

"I got you, Satine," Obi-Wan murmured as he headed back out the door. "I have you."

Satine's bloodied lips parted just slightly. "Ana-Anakin…"

Obi-Wan's heart clutched. "Quiet, my dear," he urged. "Don't speak."

But Satine was never one to obey orders that were not her own. "Anakin," she repeated again with much more effort. She wanted to be listened. "Safe. He's… safe."

And that statement alone was enough to bring back some light into Obi-Wan's soul. It appeared Dooku and Qui-Gon failed to capture Anakin. It made Obi-Wan smile for just a split second until he felt a muscle spasm in Satine's arm. A leftover of the drug they gave her at the beginning.

Obi-Wan tucked Satine closer as he walked down the corridors. No one stopped him. Not even the droids patrolling the corridor. They only stopped at attention and watched him carry an injured human into the next corridor. Obi-Wan retraced his steps back to his room, turning down the last corridor.

That was when he ran into Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon stopped in his march. He looked from Obi-Wan's perturbed glare to Satine's ashen face. "What happened?"

Obi-Wan curled his nose at Qui-Gon for his ignorance. He must have known Satine was here. That Dooku had planned to torture her to force Obi-Wan to be obedient. No, Obi-Wan was not falling such tricks.

"You already know," Obi-Wan growled, "If you excuse me?"

Obi-Wan stormed passed Qui-Gon to get to his room. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon didn't leave it like that. "Take her to the med bay," Qui-Gon advised as he followed after Obi-Wan. "They'll treat her injuries well."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "I'll keep her where she's safe," he said and he reached his room. That was when he realized he didn't know the code into his bedroom. Grunting a sigh, he turned to Qui-Gon. "Would you mind opening the door?"

Qui-Gon obliged and punched in the code. The door swished opened and Obi-Wan brought her to the bed where he carefully laid her down to rest. He rushed to the refresher, grabbing whatever supplies he could scavenged and brought it to the bed.

He unwrapped Satine from Dooku's cloak, the blood sticking to it like glue. Carefully he extracted the fabric from her wounds. Satine hissed at the friction, but did nothing else. Eyes remained closed and face palled. Obi-Wan pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and drenched a wipe to clean her bleeding wounds. Satine whimpered and flinched upon the touch.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan apologized, mouth trembling at sight of Satine's scarred body. "This will hurt a bit."

She flinched again, but endured as Obi-Wan cleaned her wounds as gently as possible. As he finished up her lips, a medical droid was granted access into his room, floating over to the side of the bed.

"Please step aside, Master Kenobi," the medical droid commanded. "I'll evaluate the damages and proceed with the mending."

Obi-Wan didn't argue with the droid. He stepped aside and allowed the droid to take over for Satine's care. He watched as the droid scanned Satine's body, recording every injury and assessing different treatment options. As the droid worked on stabilizing Satine's broken body, Obi-Wan caught sight of his opened door.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, observing the scene in grey sympathy. And it angered Obi-Wan to see the man act remorseful to an act he obviously supported. Not wanting Qui-Gon to obtain any further enjoyment at the carnage he and Dooku caused, Obi-Wan went up to the doorway.

Qui-Gon saw his approach. "Obi-Wan," he began quickly. "I had no idea—"

Obi-Wan slammed his palm on the door panel. The door zipped close, cutting Qui-Gon's lie off before he even had a chance to come up with a good story.

Door locked and Qui-Gon on the outside, Obi-Wan returned to Satine's bedside, holding her hand in his own.

"Stay with me, Satine," he whispered as the medical droid bandaged Satine's sliced arm. There was so much blood covering her skin. Obi-Wan blinked back the tears. "Stay."


	29. Chapter 29: Sithspat!

Qui-Gon didn’t move right away. When Obi-Wan slammed the door shut in his face, he only sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. A headache emerged under the stress he bore for the past few days. Obi-Wan hadn’t made things easy for anyone. His defiance on every level made it difficult to reach a compromise or even extend an olive branch.

In this very moment, though, Qui-Gon understood the blunt dismissal and bitterness. The woman Obi-Wan loved was tortured. It sickened Qui-Gon to know that Dooku went to that extreme. He turned away from the closed door, striding down the corridors with narrowed focus. He didn’t hesitate when he arrived to another closed room. Nor did he knock. Civility demanded he did, but Qui-Gon forgone it due to the frustration that bubbled near outright anger. He forced the door opened and gave himself permission to enter Dooku’s chambers.

Qui-Gon spotted Dooku at his desk, fingering a silver chain with strands of black threads fluttering off. Dooku raised his eyes to Qui-Gon. Strict lines cracked Dooku’s cold, collective stare as he eyed his old apprentice. “This better be good, Qui-Gon.”

It was. “You went behind my back,” Qui-Gon accused. “We had an agreement. _I_ handle Obi-Wan.”

Dooku straightened his shoulders and tossed the broken chain to his desk. “I’m aware of our negotiations,” he steely confirmed, “but you had three days to get him obedient and nothing to show. You should be grateful for what I’ve done! Kenobi swore fealty to us.”

Qui-Gon irritably shook his head. “Master… you don’t understand Obi-Wan’s psych. He may have sworn fealty, but we do not have his _heart_!”

Dooku scoffed. “Heart? Heart is an excuse for the weak, Qui-Gon. Surely you know better.”

“I meant Obi-Wan’s heart is what drives him,” Qui-Gon clarified. “He may do as we tell him, but he holds no loyalties to us.” Qui-Gon rubbed his face with his hands. “He’ll betray us as soon as he can.”

Dooku pondered over Qui-Gon’s assertion before he went to his closet. “I can assure you, he won’t.”

“Why? Because you threatened his life?” Qui-Gon shook his head. “Obi-Wan has little regard for his well-being. Threats against him do not matter.”

“Then the threats will be directed on the ones who do matter,” Dooku said, shuffling through a row of cloaks. “We have him under our power again, Qui-Gon. Be happy that your former apprentice has finally taken the knee and surrendered.”

“I cannot be happy knowing that _he_ ’s unhappy.”

“And that is your problem,” Dooku picked out one of the cloaks and swung it over his shoulders. “You, my old friend, are too caught up in his distress to see the bigger picture. Kenobi has submitted,” he said, adjusting the cloak along his neckline. “That’s a major step in the direction we needed to go. You can work out the finer details with the young man later.

“In fact, in a gesture of goodwill,” Dooku closed the closet door and moved across the room to stand but a few feet away from Qui-Gon, “Kenobi may keep the girl. Do whatever he wishes with her.”

Qui-Gon wrinkled his nose in disgust at what Dooku referred. “Obi-Wan is not that kind of man.”

“I never said he was,” Dooku apathetically refuted. “I do not care what he does or doesn’t do. As long as he follows our commands, then I have nothing to concern myself with.”

Of course Dooku’s attention drew to the master plan rather than the individuals involved. It was the same when Qui-Gon was his young padawan many years ago. But, Qui-Gon had thought that their late-night discussions had some impact on Dooku’s way of thinking. Over and over again, they spoke on the importance of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s decisions. How, in almost every vision, the two always appeared. In the end, Obi-Wan and Anakin were going to direct the fate of the future.

Qui-Gon had it mapped out perfectly. The process called for patience as he figured Obi-Wan’s conversion would take weeks or maybe even a few months. He strategized to slowly convert Obi-Wan to their side of the war through less hostile means. He wanted Obi-Wan to trust him again. To rely on him like he once did as a padawan and show him that peace was possible.

As he told Dooku, Qui-Gon didn’t want coerced fealty. He wanted Obi-Wan to join on his own accord. He wanted Obi-Wan to truly believe in their vision of the galaxy rather than simply become a tool. But, Dooku’s impatience ended that tactic as he rashly struck down the Duchess in front of Obi-Wan.

Now, it would take maybe a year or two to even regain the trust he lost.

Qui-Gon lamented on the difficulty it would take to fix the mistakes Dooku made with Obi-Wan. It was going to be a long and stressful journey. “It was a mistake to bring harm on the Duchess.”

The mercurial shift from indifference to irritation showed in his eyes. A twitch of a scowl threatened to break his serene visage. “Then I shall have faith in your ability to remedy it,” Dooku said. “After all, we negotiated that it would be _you_ who handled Kenobi.”

With that Makashi jab, Dooku swept aside Qui-Gon and headed to the door. “I have a conference call with our fellow Separatists. I need to initiate the next step in the plan,” he said. “If you wish to waste your time on an objective I already obtained, then by all means do so! But, if you enter my chambers unannounced again, I will not be as hospitable as I was.”

“Nor will I be a passive guest if you go over my head again on matters that are in my jurisdiction,” Qui-Gon countered. He wasn’t afraid of Dooku and he wanted to state very clearly he did not approve of what Dooku did.

Dooku’s eyes fell into slits, but an acquiescing promise was shortly shared between them. “Very well,” he said. “I must go. Handle the young man with care, Qui-Gon, but hardened your heart. It will only hurt you if you don’t shield it.”

Qui-Gon accepted the reminder and he exited out of Dooku’s chambers. He directed his feet back to the corridor, retracing his steps to return to Obi-Wan’s quarters.

There was going to be a very long talk.

* * *

Anakin flickered from one face to the next.

He only recognized Bant amongst the faces that studied him. Bant smiled warmly at him, attempting to make him feel welcomed. Anakin felt far from it. He felt like an outsider. An animal at one of the zoos where people goggled at him. It was irritating and he wanted to yell at them to stop staring.

His dining companions were all around the same age as Obi-Wan. One even had a yellow stripe across his face, dark, wild eyes focused upon him with great intensity that Anakin thought he saw right through his tough exterior and saw the frightened boy. Perhaps he did. After all, the young man was a Jedi.

Something poked him in the arm. He turned and saw Bant again. “Eat Anakin,” she insisted, pointing to the tray of food. “You need the energy.”

Anakin didn’t feel hungry at the moment. He didn’t get much sleep last night. His forehead prickled and there was a heavy, dense fog through his connection with Obi-Wan. Something happened. Something terrible. He knew that much. Sorrow seeped into him and Anakin could figure out if it was his or Obi-Wan’s. It could possibly be both.

Anakin pushed away his tray. “I’m not hungry.”

A plumped Dressellian who sat diagonally from Anakin reached for his slice of loaf. “You don’t mind me eating—”

A hand slapped the Dressellian’s reach from ever encountering Anakin’s bread. “Seriously Reeft?” came a sharp reply from a woman with cropped blonde hair. “Can’t you see he needs it more than you?”

The Dressellian rubbed his sore hand. “He said he wasn’t hungry.”

“Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t eat,” came the woman’s swift reply. She turned her blue eyes to Anakin. “You need to eat. There’s barely any meat on your bones.”

“I’m not hungry!”

Bant rested her hand on his shoulder. “You need to try Anakin,” she said. “You need it for your strength.”

“Strength to do what?” Anakin challenged, hands on his hips as he dared the older Jedi to say something to him. “I’m not doing anything! All I do is sleep, eat and listen to everyone talk about what they should do, but don’t even do it.”

“I understand your frustration—”

Anakin shook his head. “No! No you don’t!”

“Calm down, kid,” came the yellow striped man. “Throwing a tantrum won’t do anything good.”

No it wouldn’t, but it would make him feel better. He really wanted to scream. To release all these pent up emotions that he’s been unable to release due to the constant and significant changes around him. It was still big news about the Dooku’s and Qui-Gon’s betrayal. The revelation that the very man they swore as an enemy was actually right about the very respectable members of the Order crashed upon every Jedi with wounded pride. Everyone now stared at him, looking at him with either pity, embarrassment or sorrow. Whispers about him and Obi-Wan abounded again and it agitated Anakin to no end!

Worst of all he had no one to turn to. Obi-Wan was gone. Satine missing. And Padme out of contact due to the Jedi Council keeping information amongst themselves rather than include him.

He had no one in this world. He was alone and, while he would never admit it out-loud, he felt very afraid. Every day, he reached for Obi-Wan through their bond. Just any touch of his Obi-Wan’s Force presence would quell his erratic heart. His reach only hit a barricade, unable to go through it. He was blocked. Most likely by Obi-Wan himself.

Anakin slumped in his seat, crossing his arms. “I’m not hungry.”

The group surrounding him let out a collective sigh. Funny, they all acted hopeless in such a situation. Whenever he became stubborn, Obi-Wan knew the right antidote to get him to do exactly what Anakin didn’t want to do. Here, they seemingly caved in and surrendered.

Suddenly, Bant perked up. Her presence in the Force spiked as she turned fully in her seat to look at Anakin. “I might have something that may cheer you up,” she began, but Anakin didn’t react. He doubted that there would be anything she could say to cheer him up.

Bant cleared her throat and started her tale. “It’s a funny story about Obi-Wan,” she said and suddenly, Anakin’s heart tickled back to life a little. He raised his brow. An encouragement to continue. “Well, as you may remember, Obi-Wan was raised here in this very Temple. In fact, him and all of us used to hang-out.”

“One day, Master Vant allowed us to roam the Room of a Thousand Fountains on our own. We were about four years old, I believe,” Bant continued the story. “Obi-Wan, as quiet as he was, often caused the loudest commotion. An incident took place… I’m not quite sure what happened, but in the end, Obi-Wan and a fellow padawan, Bruck Chun—”

“A real piece of Bantha poodoo,” added the yellow striped man.

“Come on Vos,” Bant said, nudging her head to Anakin. “Not in front of the boy.”

Quinlan Vos merely shrugged. He didn’t seemed too conflicted that he cursed in front of Anakin. Not that Anakin cared. He heard much worst from strangers. Quinlan Vos leaned back in his chair. “But he was,” he said. “A laserbrain too. A karking—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Siri Tachi interrupted, looking back to Bant. “Continue with the story.”

Anakin flashed his eyes back to Bant, who pulled herself together after glaring at Quinlan for the interruption. “Anyway, Master Vant had to redirect them to the healers.”

A light chuckle threatened to come out of Anakin’s pressed lips. He imagined Obi-Wan hated that idea. He never was one for healers, avoiding them as much as possible. He even hesitated to take Anakin to the healers when he was five years old with a broken arm. Too afraid that the healers would find more damages and keep them locked up forever.

“So Master Vant ushered them to the healers, but Obi-Wan stopped. He didn’t follow Bruck all the way and he promptly turned around,” Bant recalled the memory. “Master Vant blocked him and asked what he was doing. Obi-Wan looked up at him and asked what healers do. Our master said, ‘They take in the injure and treat them.’”

A sliver of a smile crept up on Bant’s face. A happy memory indeed for her, Anakin noted. “Obi-Wan looked up and asked, ‘With what type of treats?’” Bant starts to chuckle on the innocence of youth. “Well, Master Vant quickly corrected him and said that healers are there to care for the injured. Master Vant then led Obi-Wan back to the healers, where he supervised both Bruck’s and Obi-Wan’s healing. They were both injected with a drug and then their arms were unceremoniously set. Obi-Wan cried out and tried to wiggle out of his seat after the healer fix the first bone. When Master Vant asked what he was trying to do, Obi-Wan said, ‘To get away from these Sithspats! They don’t care, Master! We have to stop them!’”

That sounded about right. He imagined Obi-Wan calling healers Sithspats and wanting to stop them as if they were actual real threats to the galaxy. To Anakin’s surprise, he felt the corners of his mouth rise up a bit. He perfectly imagine a pint-sized Obi-Wan shouting at healers and calling them Siths.

Bant’s laughter faded and she wiped an escape tear from her eyes. “Ever since then, Obi-Wan always despised the healers. Would hide away and care for his own wounds. Sometimes it was a hunt to find him and drag his butt to the healers.”

Anakin leaned forward, food still forgotten. “Do you have any more stories?”

“Of course,” Bant said and he gaze lifted from Anakin to her surrounding peers. “We all have loads of stories to share with you about Obi-Wan.”

“Like the time Siri here shoved him in the artificial river?” Quinlan said in a leering tone.

Siri threw a piece of fruit at Quinlan’s face. “Or maybe the time you set Obi-Wan up to take your fall when you destroyed Master Koon’s spaceship.”

“But we won’t tell you anymore,” Bant’s voice carried over the fighting padawans, “until you eat the rest of your meal.”

Anakin bunched up his eyebrows, a familiar crevice forming between them. He should have known he was falling into a trap. Obi-Wan had used those tactics when he was much younger and refused to bathe as he hated being dunked in cold water. “But I’m not hungry…”

“Then I’m afraid we have no more stories to tell you,” Bant merely shrugged and restarted on her own meal. “Siri? Do you have any more napkins?”

Siri passed a napkin to Bant and it seemed Bant was going to uphold her end. She would not tell another story to Anakin unless he started eating. Muttering an expletive, Anakin dragged back his tray and lifted his fork. He felt eyes on him as he speared one of the chunks of meat. Slowly, he brought it up to his mouth and bit into it. The Force around him gave another great sigh of relief.

Anakin continued his meal and Bant shared more childhood stories that involved Obi-Wan. Some of the stories Anakin doubted. He could never imagine Obi-Wan sneaking out of bed late at night to raid the kitchens for sweet bread. But they were all entertaining nonetheless. And it made Anakin feel a little better. Hearing stories about Obi-Wan almost made it seem like Obi-Wan was with him. It was the closest thing he had since the block on their Force bond.

After the meal, Siri and Reeft had to depart for their own private lessons. Bant, instructed by her own master to care for Anakin, offered to take him to the gardens that she talked about in one of the stories. Anakin agreed and they began their walk when Quinlan Vos promised he would come back. He rushed off and Anakin watched him disappear around the corner.

“So, you all were good friends with Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

Bant nodded. “Yes, all of us.”

“Did any of you ever miss him?”

Bant happy glow turned somber. “All the time,” she responded after a moment of silence. “It’s like I said before, it got complicated. Miscommunications and… well, maybe not miscommunications now. It’s clear that Masters Dooku and Jinn played the entire Order. I… I regret for not helping Obi-Wan sooner.”

Anakin sensed her sadness. The dark tainting the light that pooled in her own heart. She truly regretted her actions, her follies in believing the lies spread by Dooku and Qui-Gon. And it hurt her. Yesterday, Anakin would be happy that she was hurting. He would have said she rightfully deserved it because she and the others abandoned Obi-Wan. Now? Not so much. He felt her pain and realized that she never wanted it to happen. Not to her dear friend.

After an awkward mourning silence, Anakin spoke up. “He mentioned you guys once to me,” he said, not entirely sure where he was going with it. “Not specifically, but he told me once had friends and I could tell he missed you. All of you. He may not have mentioned you ever to me, but maybe it’s because it hurt him to think about it. You know?”

Bant drew up her lips in thought. “It’s possible,” she said with a weak smile. “Anything is possible.”

They had reached the gardens when Quinlan Vos ran up to them. He was holding something in his hand. Anakin tried to get a peek at it, but Quinlan hid it behind his back. “So, Master Tholme and I were in charge of collecting and reviewing the belongings involving Master Dooku and Master Jinn, and I found something I think Obi-Wan would want you to have, youngling.”

He pulled his hand out and placed something cold in his hand. Anakin glanced down and gasped.

It was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. The one he carried with him these past ten years. The last time he saw that lightsaber, it was in Garen’s hands on Tatooine.

Anakin whipped his head up. “How—”

“I guess Master Yoda or someone wanted me to use my psychometry on the weapon,” Quinlan said. “Guess they were hoping it could give them a few more hints about Dooku’s and Qui-Gon’s plans. But I didn’t get much. Just quick images of you and other things.”

Anakin wowed at holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. _This weapon is your life_ Obi-Wan once said when he handed the lightsaber to Anakin to practice a long time ago. It felt light and yet heavy all at once.

Quinlan smiled down on the boy. “Obi-Wan was a good man, Anakin,” he said. “Even a better friend. I’m sorry we failed him. And you.” He moved Anakin’s hands to curl around the lightsaber. “Obi-Wan would have wanted you to have it. Keep it close and try not to lose it.”

“Quinlan—” Bant began to say, but Anakin interrupted her.

He nodded his head and pulled the lightsaber hilt close to his heart. “I will,” he swore. “Thank you!”

Quinlan only gave him a wink before turning on his heels to walk away. He only went a few steps before he called over his shoulder. “Oh—if anyone asks where you got it,” he said. “Don’t mention my name.”

Anakin wouldn’t. He wouldn’t say a word. The Jedi had done the kindest thing to him by giving him Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Anakin smiled as he buckled the hilt to his utility belt. He had a weapon now. A weapon he could use to rescue Obi-Wan!

He just had to wait until night fell to make his escape.


	30. Worse than Death

Obi-Wan scrutinized every move the droid made.

He stayed diligently by Satine’s side as the medical droids performed treatments on the Duchess’s injuries. Her pale, waxen face still contorted in lines of discomfort. A hissing of breath was her only retaliation from whatever the medical droids were doing. Obi-Wan would jumped to her aid, demanding the droids to stop, but they instructed it was necessary to keep her vitals normal.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, rocking on his feet as Satine uneasily underwent an induced coma. A necessary step to continue treatment without her enduring any further pain. She looked so cold, almost frozen by the way she laid so still. Obi-Wan touched her hand. Not cold, but neither warm. He held her nimble fingers and brushed a kiss on top.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured as the medical droid moved around to finalize everything.

“My Lord,” the droid addressed Obi-Wan, who flinched at his newest title. Dooku didn’t waste any time in alerting the palace. The droid pulled away from the bed. “She’ll need proper rest for the night.”

Obi-Wan understood. She was not to be disturbed. Obi-Wan had no plans to awaken the Duchess. He let her rest and regain strength from her ordeal. She deserved the peace.

He didn’t leave her alone though. He stayed by the bed, hand holding onto hers. He stayed awake, watching her chest rise and fall in steady motions. All signs of improving health.

He lost track of time when the doors to his room opened again. At first, Obi-Wan expected a medical droid zoom in and complete a follow-up. Instead, he was resigned to a much crueler fate.

Qui-Gon Jinn entered the room. Eyes fallen onto Satine’s still form. Melancholy flickered in those tainted blue irises as he surveyed her prone body on the bed. He didn’t move any closer from where he stood. A respectable distance in Qui-Gon’s mind.

Obi-Wan chose to ignore Qui-Gon. For how long they were to remain silent was entirely up to the Sith Lord.

Not very long he supposed as Qui-Gon ended their bout of silence with a question. “How is she?”

“Why do you care?” Obi-Wan’s voice barely cracked above a whisper. “You got what you wanted. You no longer have to pretend.”

There was a long and drawn out sigh. A soft squeak of the carpet informing Obi-Wan that someone was moving closer. “I’m not pretending,” Qui-Gon restituted. “I am genuinely concerned for the Duchess’s well-being.”

It took all of Obi-Wan’s strength not to turn around and cuff Qui-Gon in the face. He kept his hand on Satine’s and held on for dear life. “Your actions and previous statements say otherwise,” Obi-Wan tersely stated. “You have no regard for her.”

“Don’t mistake me as Dooku, young one.”

“And don’t mistake me as some naïve boy!” Obi-Wan shouted in return, now glaring up at Qui-Gon. “You think I don’t know what this is? She’s a _bargaining tool_ to keep me in line.” He turned away from the Sith Lord, no longer interested. Satine needed his attention. But, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but utter a parting of words. “Just like I am.”

A soft _swish_ followed by _tap_ alerted Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon drew closer. A shadow fell over him and Satine, and Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s presence beside him and tensed. He instinctively moved to the edge of his seat, balancing on the balls of his feet in preparation to shield Satine from harm.

“You are not a tool,” Qui-Gon attested in quiet passion, “and neither is the Duchess. I was not aware of Dooku’s plan. He did not tell me and if he had, I would not have allowed it.”

Fingers curled underneath Obi-Wan’s chin and his gaze was diverted from Satine’s ill form to Qui-Gon, who pulled up a chair and sat beside him. Qui-Gon’s visage took on something akin to sorrow and sympathy. His eyes looked troubled and his lips thinned and sloped down in line with one who empathized. “I _am_ sorry, Obi-Wan,” he insisted and nudged his head to Satine. “I do not wish this upon you.”

Obi-Wan fleered. “Another lie,” he muttered and lifted his chin out of Qui-Gon’s hold. “If you do not wish this for me, then you would let us go.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “We already went through this—”

“Exactly!” Obi-Wan snapped. “You have no need to lie to me. I know what I am and I know why I am here.”

Qui-Gon huffed at the outburst. “Enlighten me then,” he said, dryly. “Why are you here?”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan deadpanned. “You need me to control Anakin.”

A mirthful smile twitched behind that beard. “Do we?”

Obi-Wan swiveled in his seat so that he looked directly at Qui-Gon. A low growl rumbled from his lips. “I may have sacrificed my soul, but I will not sacrifice Anakin’s,” he bitingly returned. “I will not help you turn him into a weapon. I would rather we both die than become monsters.”

“You don’t mean that,” Qui-Gon quickly brushed Obi-Wan declaration as if to refuse or even acknowledge the threat as nothing than a tantrum.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows, a deep groove coming forming. “Death is far more preferable than what you plan to do to us.”

He watched the monumental shift in Qui-Gon’s posture. Muscles in the Sith Lord’s face tightened. His gaze dangerously narrowed and all sense of sympathy vanished. Cold silence followed and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop his muscles from tensing as darkness stirred. The Force grew static, an electric storm brewing as swells of the Force’s currents pulled at him. Obi-Wan braced and shielded himself from the Dark Side as it lapped up the sides of his bubbled shield.

Qui-Gon pursed his lips. “I see,” he finally said. He rose from his chair and Obi-Wan hoped Qui-Gon was taking his leave. It was unfortunate that Qui-Gon didn’t storm off in the direction in the door. Instead, he shot a mix of a glance and a glare at Obi-Wan before he dropped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You cannot be serious?” he asked, incredulity. He shrugged Qui-Gon’s hand off. “I will not leave Satine alone in this state.”

His rejection was dismissed. Qui-Gon snatched his arm and yanked Obi-Wan up off his seat. Obi-Wan kicked out, aiming for Qui-Gon’s shins. He missed and swung his body so violently to one side he would have smack his face on the floor if it wasn’t for Qui-Gon holding him up.

“Am I mistaken?” Qui-Gon questioned, sounding peeved, “or did you not swear obedience?”

That single reminder abruptly ended Obi-Wan’s resistance. He slackened as he remembered kneeling in front of Dooku and surrendering his honor and duty before him. A sacrifice he willing made to save Satine. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to where his love laid comatose on the bed.

Qui-Gon must have read his thoughts for his fingers eased from Obi-Wan’s arm. “You can do nothing for her now, Obi-Wan,” he said in much softer and compassionate tone. “I’ll have one of the guards stand watch. No harm shall come to her. You have my word.”

It did not relieve any of the tension. Nothing would quell Obi-Wan’s anxiety that coursed through his heart unless it was _he_ who stood guard. Yet, he had no freedom to allow it. No power to command it. He was bound to listen and follow. Like he must do now.

He returned to his feet, shoulders drooped as he stopped fighting against Qui-Gon’s directions. He gave a short, curt bow of his head that was passable as respectful. “Thank you,” he managed to say to Qui-Gon in a civil voice. “I… I appreciate it.”

It sounded false on his tongue, but as long as it sounded convincing, that was all he needed. Civility was all he could afford to shield himself from unnecessary punishment. He remembered Dooku’s lessons on civilized behaviors well.

Qui-Gon steered Obi-Wan back to the door. “I’ll have them contact me if anything goes wrong,” he reassured Obi-Wan as Qui-Gon led him out of his prison. “Now—let’s go.”

* * *

Night descended on the Temple and every young Jedi went promptly to their small cots to sleep. Anakin did too. He took his bed in the corner like he did every night since arriving. Master Krav turned the lights off and Anakin threw the blankets over him. He stayed in that position for a very long time despite the difficulty of breathing. Once he was certain no one would see him, he acted.

Carefully, he removed himself from the blanket, replacing his body with a pillow. He slid down to the floor and reached underneath the bed. He found Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Exactly where he hid it so Master Krav wouldn’t take it from him. He latched it onto his belt and on his belly, sliding across the floor and underneath other sleeping cots.

No one noticed. All have fallen asleep and even a few were muttering nonsense as Anakin passed. But no one woke up to him moving. He was quiet as he stealthy made his way to the door. He checked his exit points. No sight of any Jedi lurkers. On the tip of his toes, Anakin slipped through the door and out onto the empty, silent corridor. Sticking to the shadows, he recalled the path he needed to take to return to the hanger. From there, he could wire up a ship and go after Obi-Wan.

At that time of night, there were barely any Jedi patrolling the corridors and Anakin had no problems making his way to the hanger. It too was empty of mechanics and Jedi. Only filled with speeders, bikes and ships ready to fly out. Anakin surveyed the hanger first to reaffirm he didn’t miss anything or anyone. Positive the hanger was empty, Anakin bolted to the starfighter.

He reached the ladder, ready to climb when he heard gentle thumps of a stick hitting the marble floorings. Anakin jumped at the noise, twisting around to discover he was not alone as he suspected. The diminutive Jedi Master Yoda stood but mere yards away from him. There was no sign of shock or anger emitting from the Jedi. He clutched his gimer stick, leaning into it as he observed Anakin.

“Going somewhere, hmm?” hummed Master Yoda.

Anakin could lie. Feed him a story about how he couldn’t sleep. But, Anakin saw in the Jedi’s eye that lying would be wasteful and insulting on their intelligence.

“I’m going to save Obi-Wan,” Anakin stated as he grabbed hold of the ladder.

Master Yoda hummed again, but his tone was flat. “How plan you on saving him, hmm?” he questioned, ears perking up. He raised one of his clawed fingers to Anakin’s belt. “With a lightsaber, hmm? Give you that, we did not.”

Anakin reached down for Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. “It’s mine.”

“Know how to use it do you, hmm?”

Of course he knew how to use it. Obi-Wan taught him. “I can fight.”

Master Yoda’s ears rose high, his eyes widened in intrigue. “He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,” he stepped closer, but not in a threatening manner which required Anakin to ready resistance. “If you leave now, lose, you will. Fail Obi-Wan, you will.”

“I already failed him,” Anakin said, a deep frown on his face and his eyebrows pinched in anger as he thought of the days he wasted at the Temple rather than rescuing Obi-Wan. “I won’t let him suffer anymore. I’m going to save him! And no one will stop me.”

The Force soughed between them. Deep disappointment and sympathy suffused the gap and Anakin got the feeling that Master Yoda approved and condemned his feelings and effort. His age showed. The hunched shoulders, the creases deepening into his leathery skin and the stringy grey hair all pointed to a being that seen and experienced far too much. And his deep, controlled breaths were the only thing supporting him.

The only thing that flared with life was the Jedi Master’s eyes. Vivid and spectacular. Wise and knowing. Confident and content. There was something tricky in Master Yoda. Anakin sensed it all in a single glance.

Master Yoda humphed at Anakin’s proclamation. “If beat you, no one can,” he said, “then you, no trouble fighting me, should have.”

Master Yoda shrugged off his robe and dropped the gimer stick to the side. “If beat me in a duel, you can, then you fly off I shall let,” he gambled as he reverently drew out his lightsaber. “If you cannot, stay, you must.”

Anakin took one look from the Master Yoda’s lightsaber to his face. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order was nearing nine hundred years old. He used a walking stick, moving slowly across the hanger. Did Master Yoda have a death wish? Or maybe dementia?

Either way, Anakin turned away from the ladder and pulled out Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. It’s going to be an easy win.

Anakin turned on the lightsaber, drawn to the lowest power. Master Yoda mimicked him. The green blade sprouted out from the cylinder.

The lightsabers hummed in union.

Anakin charged. His blade thrusted near the old Jedi’s throat. But, Anakin never got close. Like watching in slow motion, Master Yoda stepped aside and brushed Anakin’s blade away. Anakin tried again, but Master Yoda easily slapped the blade away from his face.

Anakin jumped and flipped over Master Yoda, striking blows with Obi-Wan’s blade. He remembered his training, copying the katas Obi-Wan instructed as he tried to get a hit on Master Yoda. But the diminutive Jedi barely moved during the duel. He stayed in his exact position, parrying and blocking every single thrush Anakin made against him.

Nothing Anakin did worked. Master Yoda effortlessly dodged his strikes like it was child’s play. Anakin withdrew, rethinking of another plan of attack. But that was when Master Yoda became animated. He launched himself up in the air, spinning in the air right at Anakin.

Anakin dove to the side, narrowly missing the green blade by his arm. Anakin brought up the lightsaber to counter-strike Master Yoda’s slashes, but the Jedi Master leapt again, somersaulting over Anakin. He landed in perfect balance behind Anakin. Reversing his grip, Anakin swung his blade back and stopped Master Yoda’s hard thrust. He spun the blade around, stepping off to refocus.

But Master Yoda refused that time. He charged onward, closing the gap Anakin desperately tried to widen. He kept skipping backwards as he parried off Master Yoda’s cunning strikes as he spun from one part of the room to the next. He never let up. Never surrendered.

Anakin’s vitality dwindled into sloppy parries against Master Yoda’s attacks. He went low to hit the Master Jedi, but Master Yoda never stayed grounded. He kept spinning and flipping and somersaulting around him that Anakin thought his vision was failing him. Anakin was puzzled by Master Yoda’s sudden change in vivacity. One moment, the diminutive Jedi inched across the hanger and now, he was a flexible gymnast that flew easily through the air. It shocked Anakin that the Master Jedi masked his fighting spirit. He may be nine hundred years old, but he fought with the energy of a young being.

Master Yoda came down hard against Anakin’s blade. His lightsaber cackled and hissed upon impact and Anakin twisted his wrist to spin the green Jedi away. But Master Yoda predicted the move and countered it by ducking, leaving an opening for him on Anakin’s wrist. Master Yoda’s green blade tapped Anakin’s wrist, an uncomfortable burn scorching his skin.

Anakin yelped. Obi-Wan’s blade slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor as he recoiled his hand. Defenseless, Master Yoda crouched low and kicked out, swiping Anakin off his feet. Anakin crashed to the floor, wincing as a shock ran up his bones. Sore, Anakin winced as he pushed himself up to continue the fight. He couldn’t lose! Not with so much at stake.

Blurred vision, Anakin sought for Obi-Wan’s blade. It was a few feet away. Anakin stretched his hand out to call the lightsaber to him. The lightsaber shook and then it flipped up into the air, spiraling madly through the air. Only, it didn’t go straight to Anakin’s outstretched hand.

It went to Master Yoda’s hand.

With a lightsaber in each claw, Master Yoda brought the blue and green blades down upon Anakin’s face. Anakin scooted away, eyes alight with blue and green hues. He flickered from the blades to Master Yoda. It was over.

Chest swelling as he panted for air, Anakin regrettably surrendered.

Master Yoda accepted the surrender in silence. He powered off both lightsabers and hooked them to his belt as trophies of his winning.

Anakin trembled as he stared at Obi-Wan’s confiscated lightsaber on Master Yoda’s utility belt. He lost it. His only hope of rescuing Obi-Wan from the Sith Lords’ captivity was taken from him in such an embarrassing and undignifying manner. Reeling from the loss, Anakin pulled himself up into a sitting position, eyes straining to rein in the frenzy of emotions that wrecked him.

Master Yoda looked on in pity. And Anakin _hated_ him for it. “Sorry,” Master Yoda offered as condolence. “I am sorry, young one.”

Tears brimmed his eyes. “No you’re not!” cried Anakin. “You… you don’t care at all! You condemned him to death!”

“Death is always the worst thing to happen in life not.”

Of course he believed that. But in Anakin’s experience, it was. Death was unforgiving and left nothing. It took everything. “Then you’ve never lived,” accused Anakin. “You… none of you understand! You live in this fortress and preach principles that have nothing to do with real life!”

Master Yoda’s shoulders dropped as he shook his head. “Lived a very long life, I have. Met many people. And far too many heroics and tragedies, witnessed,” he said as he toddled over to his discarded robe and gimer stick. “Sadness, I know. Pain, I know. I know.”

He pulled on his robe. “Powerful, I also know that the Sith are. If you could defeat me not, then defeat them you would not,” he warned to Anakin. “Fail, you will, if go.”

“I’ve beaten them before!”

“Ha!” Master Yoda jeered. “To doom, your arrogance already brought you.”

Anakin frowned, a familiar groove driving between his eyebrows. “So what? You want me to forget about Obi-Wan? Let him suffer and die?” Anakin shook his head. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that to him!”

Master Yoda scrutinized Anakin. “Honor your deal, you must.”

“I have to save Obi-Wan!”

“If you go,” Master Yoda gravely warned. “Then betray him, you will. For you Obi-Wan sacrificed his existence. Throw his parting gift away, do not.”

That gave Anakin pause. Sitting on the floor, breathless, Anakin remembered all the times Obi-Wan spared him the sight of danger. How often Obi-Wan told him to run or find a place to hide. Even now, this past week, Obi-Wan sacrificed his freedom for Anakin’s own safety. Could he possibly forfeit the very thing Obi-Wan desperately strove to do? His guilty heart hung. No, he supposed he could not sacrifice the very thing Obi-Wan lived his life for.

At that dawning and damning revelation, Anakin stifled his cries and controlled his spasming muscles. Not exactly looking at Master Yoda, he nodded his comprehension of what Master Yoda drilled into his thick skull. “No, I… I do not want to throw it all the way,” he said dropping his head. “But I do not want him to suffer for me.”

“Suffer more if you were caught, he would,” Master Yoda brought up his gimer stick and returned next to Anakin. “As I said, things much worse than death, there are.”

“But Obi-Wan—”

“Strong, he is,” Master Yoda affirmed. “Stronger than you know. For three years he lived under the Sith. Survive and persevere again, he can.”

Anakin was well aware of how long Obi-Wan survived under the Sith’s hardships. Didn’t mean he wanted him to do it all over again. He tilted his head back, lost as to what to do. “What do I do now?”

“Return to your room, you will. Sleep, you need,” Master Yoda advised. “To the Force, honor Obi-Wan's sacrifice by training and listening. Have patience. Soon, the path to stop the Sith, revealed, will be.”

Master Yoda gestured Anakin to rise to his feet. Stiffly, Anakin weakly returned to his feet. His legs and arms were heavy from exhaustion, but he gathered his bearings and walked to the exit with Master Yoda beside him. They said nothing more. Anakin moved slowly, but Master Yoda did not speak of his dragging. Anakin ruminated on the last image he saw of Obi-Wan. The feelings of great sorrow and pain pricked his mind, but it passed as it came.

They reached the crèche Anakin fled from earlier. They stood outside the door and Anakin reached for the scanner to grant entrance. His hand was stopped by Master Yoda.

“To you I believe this belongs.”

The Jedi Master unclipped Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and pressed it into Anakin’s palm. Anakin was surprised. He flipped his perplexed gaze from the lightsaber to Master Yoda. He didn’t understand. He believed Master Yoda was to hold the lightsaber hostage.

Master Yoda saw his confusion. “Want you to keep it safe for him, Obi-Wan would,” he clarified. “Hold onto it and lose not it for this weapon is your life.”

Obi-Wan said the same thing to him. And Anakin nearly cost them both their lives through his own arrogance and ignorance. He curled his fingers around the hilt of the lightsaber, squeezing it in reassurance. The pulse he sensed in the Force almost tricked Anakin into believing he was actually holding Obi-Wan’s life in his hands.

It made him sadder. “Thank you, Master Yoda,” he murmured as he clipped the lightsaber to his belt.

Master Yoda gave a single nod. “May the Force be with you, young Skywalker.”

Anakin slipped into the crèche. Everyone was still asleep. Master Krav was the only one awake. When Anakin entered, she immediately confronted him, scolding him for his sneaking out. She sentenced him to three laps around the Jedi Temple’s perimeter as punishment, but for now he was to return to his cot and sleep.

Anakin did. He fell back onto his cot and closed his eyes. He didn’t fall asleep right away. Not when both his head and heart were utterly destroyed in the fact he could do nothing to save his only family. And how utterly close he was to destroying them both.


	31. You Don't Know Me

It came as a surprise when Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan straight to a training salle. Like everything else in the palace, the salle matched the refined taste of Dooku’s sophistication. Emerald walls and sleeked floorboards that were not too hard on the feet surrounded Obi-Wan. The room itself was bare. Only Qui-Gon and he occupied the room, standing in the center. Obi-Wan couldn’t suppress the shivers that crawled up his body. Not because he was in a training salle unarmed, but because of the blank and detached look on Qui-Gon. There was nothing simmering beneath the surface, meaning Qui-Gon’s motive was a mystery.

Obi-Wan reached through the Force. Despite their broken bond, Obi-Wan still sensed his old master’s presence and sometimes even feelings if strong enough. As Obi-Wan slid up against the walls of Qui-Gon’s Force signature, Qui-Gon waved at the door, effectively locking the two of them in the salle.

Obi-Wan stepped back, uncertain as Qui-Gon discarded his robe. He unclipped his lightsaber. Again, Obi-Wan realized he was unarmed. Qui-Gon lit the lightsaber and the red blade shot out from the hilt, casting a red hue over Qui-Gon’s face. Obi-Wan observed Qui-Gon’s eyes flame under the light, pale blue eyes contorted to a rush of lava.

Too immersed at the sudden change of eye color, Obi-Wan barely caught the whisperings of warning through the Force. He pulled back on Force’s command and the red blade swiped down at the exact spot Obi-Wan once stood. Obi-Wan scurried backwards, standing on the balls of his feet as he gallingly gawked at Qui-Gon.

“Are you mad?!” Obi-Wan shouted.

Qui-Gon lunged the blade again, forcing Obi-Wan to flip over the strike. Qui-Gon was mad! And utterly confusing. One minute, Qui-Gon brokered for peace and the next he lashed out at Obi-Wan, wanting to cut him down. Obi-Wan tried to consider the meaning of this sudden change, but he didn’t get beyond that mere thought. He narrowly evaded the red blade’s slash near his hand.

Breathing hard, Obi-Wan refocused from why to survive. He had training like this before. Years ago, Dooku often dragged him to the training salle with no weapon to defend himself against Dooku’s lethal lightsaber. It was a lesson Dooku believed to be more beneficial to his training if his weapon was ever confiscated. Obi-Wan, however, believed Dooku liked to make his life miserable.

But, he begrudgingly admitted, it did come in handy during his time on the run with Anakin. And now, he was going to have to use his training here. Another swipe for his chest and Obi-Wan dodged it on reflex and knowledge on Qui-Gon’s fighting style. Qui-Gon adored Atura, which gave Obi-Wan an advantage. Knowing the opponent’s fighting style was half the battle. The other half was to not slip up.

Sensing another strike, Obi-Wan somersaulted, moving at quick speeds to confuse Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord was older. Grey filtered through the brown hair and the crowfeet by his eyes showed his age. If Obi-Wan kept with the pace, he could overtake Qui-Gon once the Sith became fatigued. The remaining question was: how long?

Qui-Gon hadn’t shown any signs of exhaustion and kept his momentum steady. No change and that worried Obi-Wan. Without a weapon, he was certain that he would either lose a limb or his life. Unless he stole the weapon from Qui-Gon’s hands. It was possible. Most likely not to work, but still possible.

Obi-Wan quickly drew up a plan in his head. If he slid to the right, bending his back over and somersaulting below, Qui-Gon would expect him to come up on the other side. Instead of popping up, Obi-Wan planned to kick him off his feet.

Predictable, Qui-Gon struck his lightsaber down near Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan missed the blade by bending down, falling into a perfect somersault. Qui-Gon turned to follow, his blade twirling in the air to strike again when he popped up. Obi-Wan smirked. Instead of popping up, he used the Force and gave a hard kick to Qui-Gon’s shins.

The decievement caught Qui-Gon off guard. The Sith Lord stumbled, his lightsaber pointed away, giving Obi-Wan the necessary time to leap back to his feet and charge after Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan snatched for the lightsaber, a hand on each wrist as he attempted to deactivate the lightsaber from Qui-Gon’s grasp.

They struggled. Both attempted to throw the other one off, but neither let go. Obi-Wan pushed the wielded weapon down, hoping it would force Qui-Gon to power it off unless he wanted Dooku’s wrath for destroying the floorboards. Qui-Gon tried to overpower him, twisting his wrists to force Obi-Wan to become vulnerable.

Neither budged.

At least until Obi-Wan saw a genuine smile curl up on Qui-Gon’s face. Then Qui-Gon flicked his fingers and Obi-Wan felt a coalesced mass collide into his stomach, knocking him off his feet about a yard away.

The Force push kicked all the air out of Obi-Wan’s lung. He gasped for air, inflating his lungs again as he hurried to his feet. He brought his hands up, readying to react when he saw Qui-Gon power down the lightsaber and clipped it back to his belt. It appeared the spontaneous duel was over.

Obi-Wan stayed in his position, forcing Qui-Gon to approach him. “What was that all about?” Obi-Wan demanded, his breaths louder than his words as he slowly dropped his hands.

“It was the proof I needed,” Qui-Gon clarified.

“Proof?”

“You don’t want to die.”

Obi-Wan ceased all breathing. He stared, dumbfounded. It was a test. He should have known. Should have predicted… it didn’t matter now. Qui-Gon got the information he wanted. He proved Obi-Wan wrong.

That didn’t mean Obi-Wan was going to give him complete victory. “No one wants to die,” he contended, “but one does acknowledge that there are worse things than death.”

“I’m aware,” Qui-Gon stated, “but I needed proof that you weren’t suicidal. Cannot have that.” A flash of pride glittered those eyes. “You did well. I half expected you to give up in the first thirty seconds.”

Obi-Wan disregarded the compliment. Too angry to even humor Qui-Gon any longer. “Then you never knew me at all.”

He marched passed Qui-Gon, side-stepping the formidable Sith to head straight to the doors. He got no farther than a few steps before he was tugged back by a pinch in his tunics. He staggered backwards until Qui-Gon was by his side once again. He rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, immobilizing him.

“I know you better than you think,” Qui-Gon claimed in an arrogance that irked the young man. “I raised you, Obi-Wan. Since you were thirteen, I took care of you and trained you in the ways of the Force. I know your strengths and weaknesses. Your dreams and fears. I know them all.

“And while I appreciate your defiance,” Qui-Gon proceeded and Obi-Wan noted the genuineness of that appreciation, “save it for another time. Accept that the Force led you here again. Back home.”

Obi-Wan raised a single brow, a skeptical glare answered back to Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord knew nothing and his assertion that he _raised_ him was wrong. “Seven years.”

“What’s that?”

“Seven years ago I was a padawan,” Obi-Wan said through clenched teeth. “You knew the padawan. You don’t know me.”

Obi-Wan shrugged Qui-Gon’s hand off. “Are we done here?” he asked, moving out of reach. “Or will there be another lesson?”

Qui-Gon let his hand fall to his side, running his other hand along his beard. Almost like he remembered those old days through filtered sorrow. “No,” he quietly answered. “We’re done. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

A nod. “Looking forward to it,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

They left the training salle, returning to the labyrinth of corridors as Qui-Gon led the way back to Obi-Wan’s current prison cell. He looked out the windows they passed to the dark sky, praying to the Force that the sun never rise. He hoped for some peace from the Sith Lords while Satine recuperated, but it seemed unlikely to happen. Obi-Wan only wished that the morning meeting wouldn’t be as lethal as the interaction they had.

Qui-Gon stopped outside the door and keyed in the passcode. The door zipped open and Obi-Wan charged ahead, not wanting to give Qui-Gon’s the chance to stop him. He marched into his prison cell only to come to a complete halt.

Satine wasn’t on the bed.

Obi-Wan scanned the room, searching for signs of Satin’s existence. He found none and that made his heart sink to the deep pit of his soul. He spun around and faced a collected Qui-Gon. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

Qui-Gon raised his brows once more. “The Duchess is fine,” he assured. “She’s exactly where you left her.”

Obi-Wan looked back to the empty bed. “No, she’s not.”

A small smile played on Qui-Gon’s lips. “This isn’t your _old_ room,” he explained. “The Duchess needed sleep and so do you. I thought it would be appropriate if you had your own bed.”

Appropriate or not, Obi-Wan had no intentions in staying in the room. “I would feel better if I was with Satine,” he countered. “Be there when she wakes.”

“Admirable as it is,” Qui-Gon diplomatically agreed, “She won’t wake during the night.”

“She could—”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “The drug will keep her in an induced healing coma until the morning,” he affirmed his previous statement. “The Duchess will survive a night without your watch. She has medical droids attending to her.”

He shepherded Obi-Wan away from the door to the center of the room. “Take care of yourself first,” he instructed. “I promise you’ll see her tomorrow. After our talk.”

Obi-Wan recognized the futility of arguing further on the subject. No demands of his were going to be met. “Very well,” he surrendered. “I expect I’ll receive the wake-up call around dawn?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes glittered in amusement. “I’ll be merciful,” he said. “It won’t be too early nor obnoxiously late. Enough for a good slumber.”

“How kind,” Obi-Wan muttered as he moved to the refresher.

“Good-night,” Qui-Gon called, retreating to the door.

Obi-Wan paused in his walk to the refresher, hesitant. “Erm… good-night.”

And they both went their separate ways.

* * *

Anakin sat on a mat, legs folded as he let his mind wander through the Force. The instructor led the class of padawans in a meditation circle. They were being trained to control their reactions upon entering the Force. It seemed nearly child’s play for Anakin, but he followed the teacher’s orders and sat between a human girl and an Anx boy. Both of them curiously eyed him, questions popping in his head.

Ever since the Jedi accepted the truth, Anakin received the oddest looks from everyone. Jedi Masters peered at him interest and pity and padawans gaped. It was unnerving and he wished to be away from all of it. He was always relieved when Bant showed up to take him away from the other younglings or padawans. He preferred her company than his clan-mates.

But, Bant wasn’t available in the morning and now, Anakin sat in on a lesson on meditation. He disliked meditating. It was a struggle in his household. Obi-Wan swore meditation wasn’t for punishment purposes, but Anakin thought differently. Why sit still for hours when one could be doing something? They bickered about it and one time Obi-Wan wrestled Anakin onto a mat to meditate. Eventually, a compromise was made that Anakin only had to meditate for one hour on the mat and the other times he can do it while fixing machine parts.

There was no compromise in the Jedi Temple. Anakin asked if he could work on droids instead of meditating and was immediately denied. He didn’t want to sit on the mat for hours and argued that it was a waste, but the Jedi Master did not want to hear it and did not much appreciate his backtalk.

Bored out of his mind, he ignored the Jedi Master’s instructions and used the time to reach for Obi-Wan. The bond was still closed off. Not dead or cut, meaning Obi-Wan was still alive.

Anakin gently prodded against the blockade between his and Obi-Wan’s bond. The wall didn’t budge. It denied him access. Anakin frowned. He’s never gone this long without access to Obi-Wan. He brushed up against the wall again. Nothing. He pushed harder to break it down. It still stood. Nothing he did moved the wall. Obi-Wan made it too powerful. All in the hopes of keeping Anakin safe from the Sith Lords.

Anakin sighed. He thought back to last night. How he nearly fell right into the Sith’s palms by attempting escape from the Temple. It was luck that Master Yoda arrived. Or else he and Obi-Wan would be in grave situation. Obi-Wan told him enough about Sith Lords when he was growing up. About the dangers, deaths and wickedness they brought to the galaxy. Obi-Wan would know since he lived with them for years. Anakin had seen the scars, despite Obi-Wan’s best attempt to hide them. The worst was the one that went down his side. It should have killed him. Yet, Obi-Wan cheated death and lived with only a scar to carry.

Anakin didn’t want a scar. Not for himself or Obi-Wan. Especially not Obi-Wan. He was burdened with too many scars already.

His heart fainted. He missed Obi-Wan’s Force signature. It was always so warm and comforting, banishing any troubles or looming darkness away. Without Obi-Wan, Anakin shivered against the cold and trembled in front of the darkness treading closer to him. He clutched the wall again, scaling it and begging Obi-Wan to let him through. He pleaded through the Force for Obi-Wan to hear him.

_Come back! Please Obi-Wan, come back!_

Anakin used all his power against the wall, adding more and more pressure to knock it down. He felt the wall shift. A promising turn. Anakin release his power again, gathering up all his strength to knock the wall down…

“Anakin?”

He was whisked out of the Force, returning back to the classroom. He blinked up and saw Master Krav standing over him. Her round blue eyes studied him, concern haunting her. She squatted down next to him. “Anakin? Are you all right?”

He found it an odd question for her to ask. “Yeah… why?”

“I sensed you were in great distress,” Master Krav answered, perturbed by his nonchalant response. “We all did.”

Anakin looked passed Master Krav and noticed all the other perturbed padawans staring right at him. A few were whispering to one another, shifting their gazes to him. The sudden attention caused Anakin to pull himself up into a ball.

“I’m fine,” he said, hotly.

Master Krav frowned at the petulant dismissal. “Clearly you are not,” Master Krav fretted. “You’re letting your emotions get the best of you. The exercise is to learn to confront what you see in the Force. Not let it control you.” She shook her head. “I was told Obi-Wan taught you the ways of the Force, but I see that he didn’t get very far.”

Anakin dropped his eyes to slits. The cold thawed underneath the blazing the fire that stirred in his chest. Cheeks crimson and chest puffing out as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, Anakin fixed her with righteous glare. “Obi-Wan taught me enough,” he declared, rising up to his feet. “He’s the best teacher anyone can ask for! He taught me everything I know and I know twice as much as these kids!”

Master Krav was taken aback by Anakin’s pert response. She rose to her full height, dropping her tone to sound more kind. “I didn’t mean to offend Obi-Wan,” she appeased to Anakin. “I only meant—”

“Yes you did! You never liked him,” Anakin accused, fingers balling into fists. He remembered her disgust and distrust of Obi-Wan when he came to pick him up from class that day long ago. “Don’t act like you give a shab about him when a few days ago you were hoping to lock him down in those dungeons forever!”

Anakin didn’t wait for a response or a scolding. He turned promptly on his heel and stormed out of the room. Huffing, he marched down the corridors, hurrying to get away from the classroom. Fearing Master Krav might give chase, he quickened his pace to a full-out run.

He sprinted down the corridor, pumping his arms as Obi-Wan’s lightsaber patted against his thigh. He spun around corridors, shocking many Jedi as he passed them. A few have called out to him to stop, but Anakin kept his feet kicking up behind him. He didn’t have a clue where he was going. He stayed on the path, making turns upon instinct.

It was one of these abrupt turns that a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him right off the floor. Arms pinned to his side, Anakin thrashed in the hold, kicking backwards to hit whoever caught him.

He heard his capturer wince. “I got him, Master!” came a recognizable voice.

Anakin twisted his head and saw it was Quinlan. His dark tousles of hair spiked chaotically and an easy smile greeted Anakin. “You run pretty fast,” he complimented Anakin. “What? Did you steal something?”

Anakin glowered up at Quinlan and restarted his kicks. “Let me go!”

“Not happening,”

Another Jedi approached, taller than Quinlan, but just as impressive. A human male with dark hair, peppered with white, slowed his jog to a walk as he made his way to Quinlan’s side. Anakin stopped his struggle as he assessed the Master Jedi. Anakin immediately noticed the scar over the artificial eye, causing Anakin to cringe at sight. The artificial eye roamed over Anakin as it considered his appearance.

After a few seconds of evaluation, the Master Jedi smiled. “You run quick, young one,” he said and then he turned to Quinlan. “You may let him go, padawan. I dare say he won’t try to make a run now.”

Quinlan obeyed and released his arms. Anakin dropped on his two feet, wanting to prove the Master Jedi that he was wrong. He leaned against the balls of his feet to make a dash, but the Master Jedi distracted him.

“I’m Master Tholme,” he introduced himself, stretching his long arm down for Anakin to shake his hand. The Jedi was imposingly tall and his rough face gave no indication of his thoughts. Anakin decided not to shake his hand. Nonetheless, the Tholme didn’t indicate any hurt feelings by the rejection. “I’ve been told you already met my apprentice.”

Quinlan gave a wink to Anakin.

“I guess it was bound that we meet,” Master Tholme said and his artificial eye bore into Anakin. “I heard a lot about you.”

Anakin flashed a look to Quinlan, but the Jedi padawan said nothing. He turned back to Master Tholme. “I cannot say the same.”

Master Tholme’s smile only widened. “You were certainly raised by young Kenobi,” he commented. “You almost sound like him.”

That struck another discord with Anakin. “Obi-Wan—”

Master Tholme waved his hand as almost flicking away Anakin’s words from his mouth. “You don’t need to defend him against me, boy,” he brushed aside. “I have always found young Kenobi to be… a good influence.” Master Tholme’s gaze shifted from Anakin to Quinlan. “He had a knack to keeping Quinlan’s trouble to a minimum. A challenge not every Jedi can accomplish.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes, a small shake of his head in Obi-Wan’s direction. “He says that, but I can be a responsible.”

Master Tholme twitched a brow up, his scar stretching longer. “And a responsible adult would pass on a dangerous weapon to a youngling?”

They were talking about Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Anakin sheltered it with his hand, an action witnessed by Master Tholme.

“Have no fear boy,” Master Tholme told him. “I have no intentions of taking that lightsaber away. By all means, keep it. I dare say young Kenobi would rather you have it than the Council.”

Sensing sincerity in his words, Anakin let his hand slide back to his side. He glanced between the two of them, wondering what was to come next. “Are you taking me back to Master Krav?”

Master Tholme lifted his eyebrow again. He glanced to his padawan, who merely shrugged. It was clear to Anakin they were having a silent conversation. Anakin wanted to know what they were debating until Master Tholme looked back to him.

“I have no orders to return you to Master Krav,” he said. “In fact, I have no orders in regards to you.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“Because you running like a mad man around the Temple,” Master Tholme answered, moving his hands behind his back. “Odd behavior for a Jedi. Had to figure out what happened to make a youngling run like that.”

Anakin shrunk back, eyes casted down as to look away from Master Tholme’s intrusive stare. “Nothing happened. I just wanted to… um… get fresh air.”

Quinlan snorted, earning a quick reprimanded look from Master Tholme to which Quinlan tried to cough to cover up his slip. Master Tholme’s mouth thinned in response to Quinlan, but relaxed as he returned his attention to Anakin. “Is that so?” he inquired. “I was about to have my padawan do some acrobatic lessons outside on the plaza. Join us! I’m sure you’ll find it as fun as my padawan finds it.”

Anakin pushed himself into that trap. He should have told Master Tholme he was running to Master Yoda, but he got an inkling that Master Tholme was quite aware of the lie. Any lie. Anakin even doubted that they were heading to the plaza based on the surprise expression on Quinlan’s face. It was a rope Master Tholme used to tie Anakin up, giving him no choice but to follow.

And so he did and all he could think about was how right Master Tholme was at the beginning.

He didn’t dare run.


	32. Civilized Discussions

In a rare moment, Qui-Gon was merciful. Obi-Wan woke to the sound of a droid whirling into his room around mid-morning. Obi-Wan lifted his head up from the pillow to see it was the same medical droid that annoyingly hospitalized him earlier.

“Good morning, Lord Kenobi,” TC-11 said to which Obi-Wan groaned in protest. “It is time to get up.”

Obi-Wan dropped his head on the pillow, blinking away the last remainders of sleep before he finally pulled himself out from the covers.

Once he was off the bed, TC-11 came around and jabbed a needle into his arm.

The sudden stab jolted Obi-Wan awake. He jerked his arm away and winced at the sight of the punctured wound. “What was that for?” he asked, holding his arm.

“Your necessary vitamins,” TC-11 answered, putting away the needle. “Count Dooku and Lord Qui-Gon require you to be in perfect health.”

Of course they do. “A little warning perhaps?” Obi-Wan grumbled as he examined his arm. A tiny, red ring sprouted on his arm. “Before you stab me.”

TC-11 toddled around him. “Please dress for the day, Lord Kenobi.” TC-11 reappeared back to his side with a bound of new clothes.

Obi-Wan tactfully took the clothes and headed to the refresher once he realized the droid had no plans to leave the room. He took his time cleaning himself. He rinsed his face, brushed his teeth and kept playing with his new short hair. He considered his appearance. Either go spikey like a misfit or combed it to the side in a more respectable image. In a silent debate, he resorted to comb it down and keep it tidy.

He changed out of the makeshift sleepwear and into the new clothes provided to him. It surprised him that the clothes weren’t black. He had thought black was the customary colors of a Sith. Instead, he received grey, loose-fitting trousers, a dull grey undertunic and a simple blue overtunic. He even received a pair of slippers rather than boots. A strategy most likely. Can’t run fast in slippers.

He exited out of the refresher only to be ambushed by the medical droid again. TC-11 scanned his face, the red light blinding him for a second before it zapped away.

The droid examined the results. “Dehydrated, underweight and anemic,” it reported. “You’ll need to drink at least—”

Obi-Wan waved a hand at the droid and it immediately powered down. “I’m aware,” he grumbled, tired of hearing what was wrong with him.

He side-stepped the powered droid and went to the door. As expected, two battle droids were stationed outside his door. He looked to them both, a brow twitching upward. “Am I to wait or am I granted permission to leave?”

The droids glanced at one another, encouraging the other to answer his question. The silence went over a minute before the droid nodded. “We will escort you.”

“By all means,” Obi-Wan said and he followed the droids. 

The droids led him to the dining hall where Obi-Wan previously sat and ate lunch with Qui-Gon the other day. The droids coded in the password and the door opened. 

"Ah! Kenobi."

Obi-Wan froze. Sitting at the end of the long table was Dooku. 

* * *

Anakin wanted to lay on the pavement forever.

Cheek pressed against the hard, yet warm surface, Anakin didn’t budge when Master Tholme ordered him to rise. He overheard Quinlan making a quip at his expense, but Anakin was beyond exhausted to retaliate. That single workout Master Tholme made him do was enough to wipe him out for at least a solid day.

“Come on, boy,” Master Tholme called above him. “Get up.”

“Leave me here,” Anakin rasped out. Even if Anakin wanted to leave, he doubted his limbs would be able to hoist him back up. Every muscle was like jelly and his legs in the last stretch of the hour wouldn’t stop shaking.

Quinlan, who miraculously performed every task given to him, laughed. “I think you killed him, Master.”

“He’s still talking,” Master Tholme grunted at his padawan. “He’s not dead yet. Help him to his feet Quinlan.”

A pair of scruffy boots entered Anakin’s peripheral vision. Seconds later, Anakin thought he was flying! But, it was only Quinlan swinging him up from the ground. Once he got Anakin to his feet (and staying steady), did he let go with a mischievous grin. “You need more meat on your bones,” he poked Anakin in the ribs. “What? Does Kenobi make you fast every week?”

Anakin tilted his head, eyes scrunched from the sun burning rays. “No,” he said, but it almost sounded more like a murmur. His voice could hardly carry his words. Obi-Wan never trained him this hard before! “No… we—we couldn’t always afford enough food.”

And the grin on Quinlan’s face vanished. It turned somber. A look that didn’t fit right with the young man. Quinlan crossed his arms, hands holding his sides, as he looked away briefly. “Sorry—I’ve forgotten.”

Forgot what? Anakin wanted to ask, but chose not to upon seeing Quinlan’s discomfort. Anakin turned to Master Tholme. “Are we done?”

Master Tholme confirmed Anakin’s hope. “We are now,” the Jedi Master decided and he gestured Quinlan and Anakin to the doors. “I see you’re not much of a gymnast. You don’t like to… flaunt.”

“What does that mean?”

A hint of smile peaked up on the corner of Master Tholme’s lips. “It means you’re not like Kenobi in that manner,” he said and then he looked over Anakin’s head to Quinlan. “Padawan? If I remember correctly, Kenobi was fond of acrobatics as much as you.”

Quinlan snickered. “If you mean he could do a decent flip, then yeah—he was good.”

Master Tholme shook his head, muttering underneath his breath. “He may not be as cocky as my padawan here, but Kenobi was a gifted acrobat.”

Anakin had seen Obi-Wan perform a few acrobatic flips and cartwheels in fights with bounty hunters and Jedi. It impressed Anakin as a child. He often practiced by climbing up on small boulders or tree limbs to jump off. Obi-Wan stood nearby in case he ever lost control, which he constantly did at a much younger age. Obi-Wan basically stood right below, arms out and ready to catch him. Since Anakin mastered better control of his limbs and the Force, Obi-Wan no longer stood directly below. But, Anakin still liked it when Obi-Wan stood by, ready just in case. It always gave him a sense of security knowing he was there to catch him.

Except for today. When he only had Master Tholme and Quinlan, who were far more interested in pushing him to the brink of death rather than saving him. They let him fall flat on his face too many times to count.

Master Tholme opened the door with a wave of his hand, still speaking. “I guess one has to be good if Ataru is the saberplay of choice,” he said as they all entered the Temple. “What forms do you know, boy?”

“Um… just an um…” Anakin had no idea what Master Tholme was talking about and the Jedi Master understood.

“Ah… Kenobi never instructed you on the lightsaber forms,” Master Tholme said. “Or at least, their names. You ever used a lightsaber?” Anakin nodded. “Hmm… show me your stance boy.”

Anakin stopped and, using Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, got into a fighting stance. Master Tholme hummed in recognition. “I see,” he said, somewhat amused. “He’s training you in Soresu. Not surprising. It counters the Ataru form.”

“What are you talking about?” Anakin queried, still lost.

“My apologies, I forget that you did not grow up at the Temple,” Master Tholme said. “There are seven forms of lightsaber combat. Each padawan is briefly instructed in all of them until they pick out their chosen form. Quinlan here prefers Ataru.”

“I find dueling to be dull if I don’t,” Quinlan explained, that mischievous smile reappearing again.

“Yes, of course, you and Kenobi used to practice until you destroyed the training salle.”

“That was Kenobi’s fault,” Quinlan immediately defended and then shrugged. “He didn’t trust me.”

“Most likely due to your lack of… restraints in regards to rules.”

Quinlan gave another shrug, an amused smirk dawning on the padawan. “You knew that about me when you chose me.”

Master Tholme sighed. “Indeed I did,” he agreed, looking to Anakin. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. Get you some proper food.”

They redirected to the cafeteria and Anakin went quietly. As they turned another corner, Anakin couldn’t help but asked, “How do you know so much about Obi-Wan? Were you his teacher or something here?”

Master Tholme chuckled. “Oh Force no! I wasn’t his master,” he said. “I knew Obi-Wan through Quinlan here and of course, through Quin-Gon and Dooku.”

Anakin froze at hearing their names. He retreated away from Master Tholme so quickly that he violently crashed into the wall. The discomfort of fear treading in his stomach got Anakin active again. “You knew them!”

Master Tholme raised a single brow at the tone. “Of course,” he said, sounding almost patronizingly. “Dooku was a good friend of mine. Qui-Gon too.”

Anakin gaped and then turned to Quinlan for any type of denial. He needed the padawan to signal that he heard wrong or that Master Tholme lied. Seconds ticked passed and Quinlan offered nothing to reject the claims Master Tholme made.

Master Tholme eyed Anakin carefully. “I know what you are thinking, boy, but it’s not true. I don’t work for Dooku nor Qui-Gon,” he rebuked. “I’m loyal to the Force and the Force alone.”

“You called them friends!”

“In the past tense,” Master Tholme clarified. “Our friendship slowly dissolved these last few years. Our outlook on _certain_ _topics_ began to contrast dramatically and now, seeing as to who they really are, makes sense.”

Anakin glared at the Jedi Master through hooded eyes, the seeds of distrust sprouting. Obi-Wan told him the Sith were master manipulators. Blinded the whole Jedi Order from seeing their true colors for _years_! Obi-Wan also mentioned the Sith Lords having helpers. People to do their bidding to cover their tracks. What if Master Tholme was another? After all, he was keen to meet him. He knows a lot about Obi-Wan. And he admitted to being _good friends_ with the Siths.

“It’s okay Skywalker,” Quinlan said in tones of assurance that snapped Anakin out of his assessment. “Master Tholme is telling you the truth. I would know, seeing as I can learn everything with my special skill.”

“It is rude to be invasive of one’s privacy, padawan,” Master Tholme gently chastised the young man and he turned back to Anakin. “My padawan makes an excellent point. If I was in league with either Dooku or Qui-Gon, he would know and chop my head off.”

“Not your head, Master.”

Master Tholme rolled his eyes, ignoring Quinlan’s widening grin. “The point is, boy,” he said to Anakin. “I’m not in league with the Sith. Never will be.” He gave Anakin a look over, brows slanted over his eyes. “Got it?”

Not entirely. Anakin jutted his chin out, fire in his eyes as he challenging stared up at Master Tholme. “If you were their friend, how come you didn’t know?” Anakin demanded. “How did you not notice they changed?”

Master Tholme folded his arms across his arms. “Boy—that’s a question with a difficult answer. You’re never going to get the answer you want. Ignorance, arrogance, blindness and all sorts of excuses one could say about how they didn’t notice two Siths in the Temple.”

“Obi-Wan—”

“Kenobi knew because they let him in on it,” Master Tholme interrupted, dismissing Anakin’s words. “They never planned to hide their intentions from him.” He paused, a questionable brow rising up his forehead. “Imagine, though, if he wasn’t? Do you think Obi-Wan Kenobi would have noticed his Master changing?”

“Of course he would!” Obi-Wan’s moral compass made it impossible for him to be blind by injustice and evil.

Master Tholme clicked his tongue in disagreement. “For a boy who was raised by Kenobi for seven or eight odd years, you’re certainly blind to his faults.” Master Tholme paused for moment, assessing Anakin with a sudden, bright realization. “Ah… _I see_. You don’t see it because it’s also _your_ weakness.”

Anakin blinked in utter confusion. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Master Tholme’s cybernetic eye zoomed on him, almost like it could see through Anakin. “You share the same weakness as your master.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t my master!”

Master Tholme shrugged, nonchalant. He continued wielding his words like a lightsaber, striking Anakin right in the gut. “You both care too deeply—attachment, in other words,” he concluded. “You for Kenobi and Kenobi for Qui-Gon.”

No. That was impossible. Obi-Wan hated Qui-Gon! That Sith Lord ruined his life! Anakin balled up his hands. “That’s not true!”

Master Tholme chortled at Anakin’s vehement denial. “You’re like Kenobi in so many ways,” Master Tholme rolled on. “Kenobi always believed Qui-Gon to be the best Jedi in the Temple—short from Master Yoda. He loved Qui-Gon like a son loves a father. Devoted, loyal and always wanting to please.” Master Tholme paused to look down at Anakin with a knowing smile. “Much like yourself.”

“So what?” Anakin countered, flustered by Master Tholme’s accusation. “Obi-Wan cares! He has emotions! He’s not a mindless droid! He would have still _seen_ —”

Master Tholme let out a heavy sigh. “You are blinded by your love for Kenobi,” he said. “Just as much as Kenobi was for Qui-Gon.” He swatted the air with his hand as if Anakin’s words were pesky flies.  “Kenobi would have missed the signs. Make up excuses or not take any of them to heart. Blame such emotional outburst on the loss of Tahl, etc.

“In other words, Kenobi would have been as blinded as you are with him,” Master Tholme finished. “No Jedi will admit it, but we are all blind, boy. Each and every one of us is blind to the people we care most about.”

A deep crevice bedded into the Master Tholme’s forehead. “Now—to answer your question as to how I didn’t notice the changes… well, I did. I _did_ notice and I chose not to act upon them. Care to know why, boy?”

Anakin hesitated. The hard gaze bearing down upon him caused the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand up. But despite the fear energizing his adrenaline, Anakin tipped his neck back, met the Jedi Master’s eyes and gave a firm nod. 

Master Tholme leaned closer, his piercing gaze so close to Anakin that the young boy got a tingle of the Jedi Master’s breath against this face. “I didn’t do anything because,” began Master Tholme, “I didn’t want my heart to break.”

Master Tholme drew back up and folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes. He flicked his cybernetic eye to Quinlan. “Come padawan,” he commanded. His interest in Anakin suddenly gone. He dismissed him with an easy turn as to no longer see the boy. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Quinlan nodded, but stopped short from following his master. “What about Anakin?”

Master Tholme didn’t look back. “I don’t think he’s hungry at the moment.”

Quinlan cocked an eyebrow in Anakin’s direction, still uncertain if they should leave him behind. But Master Tholme called for him again and Quinlan nodded a salute to Anakin. “You’re all right, kid.”

With that, Quinlan bid his farewell and joined his master further down the corridor, leaving Anakin alone in the corridor. And he remained there. Too shocked to move and too baffled by the answer he never expected to receive. He stayed up against the wall, his mind chaotic in the flutters of philosophies that propelled him there. A rush of sorrow and fear combined into one mass that sunk Anakin.

Anakin wanted nothing more than to tell Master Tholme he was wrong. From his experiences in the real world, emotions weren’t evil. They helped him connect with people and the galaxy, to demonstrate his joy, anger, hurt and love. How could the Jedi _believe_ that emotions were a hinder?

He slid further down the wall, thoughts untangling from one another. In his grand speech, Master Tholme deduced that emotions— _feelings!_ —was the fault to the Sith Lords rise to power within the Temple. No one wanted to see Obi-Wan’s truths because they were protecting their hearts. But the Jedi preached no emotions. They don’t have hearts if they follow that precious Code Obi-Wan chants when anxious.

The Jedi were hard to understand. Their lives, philosophies and style boggled Anakin enough that he spun himself into a tight net that he got too lost in his own mind to hear the soft footsteps that came up to him.

“Anakin?”

Anakin jolted, thumping his head against the wall as he snapped up. “Oh. It’s you.”

Bant chuckled. “Sorry to interrupt your… meditation?” she guessed. “You okay? You seem to be in a rut.”

Anakin merely shrugged. “Same as always.”

Bant settled herself down next to him. “I heard about your escapade.”

Anakin’s eyesbrows shot to his hairline. “Master Yoda told you about that?”

Bant stared quizzically at him. “What? No. Master Krav told me. She said that you were distressed and took off running.”

Cheeks burned in embarrassment of his gaffe. He thought Bant referred to his humiliating duel with Master Yoda in the hanger. He quickly shook his head to cover up his mistake. “Oh—that. It was something Master Krav said… some comment about Obi-Wan.”

Bant slowly nodded her head in understanding. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” she apologized on the Order’s behalf. “Some Jedi are having a hard time adjusting. For years they believed Obi-Wan to be a rogue. A traitor… only to discover he was right all along. That even their own leaders messed up? It’s a confusing time for all.”

“But not for me?”

“Most importantly you,” Bant assured him, rubbing his back. “This is all new to you. And I’m sure it’s not easy to hear others gossip about Obi-Wan.”

“Yeah—I know,” Anakin resigned. “I overhear everyone’s comments about us. About m. And if not, I can feel it.” Anakin paused. “Do you know Master Tholme?”

“Of course, Quinlan’s master,” Bant said. “Why?”

“I met him today. He told me some things about Obi-Wan.”

Bant studied him, her silver orbs eyeing him. He felt her Force presence poke his own, gliding up to sense any strong emotions to prepare her for what he was about to say. “Is that why you’re upset right now?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Anakin admitted, looking away. “A lot of things are upsetting me.”

Bant bobbed her head. “Yes, these are stressful times,” she agreed. “Perhaps food is in order? Get something in our bellies.”

She jumped to her feet, holding her hands out to hoist Anakin up. As they strolled down the corridor at an easy pace, Bant looked down at her young ward. “Then once we have our fill, then maybe we can swap stories,” she offered. “I’ll tell you a story about Obi-Wan and you tell me what’s troubling you. Deal?”

Anakin contemplated the deal. It didn’t sound too bad. “Deal.”

* * *

Dooku gestured a hand to welcome Kenobi. “Do come in.”

Kenobi tarried in the threshold, debating on entering. Dooku looked to the droid and signaled them a command. The droids bobbed their heads and shoved Kenobi into the room. After the initial shove, Kenobi obliged, picking up his feet as he walked to the only plate setting available.

Dooku scrutinized every movement, noting the subtle shifts in the manner Kenobi portrayed. A clenched jaw. Flexed fingers strained from making a fist. Taut eyes assessed the room, evaluating every aspect for any advantages or disadvantages. Arriving at the long table, the young man settled in the pro-offered seat on Dooku’s left.

A serving droid wheeled over, asking the young man for his drink order. Expectantly, Kenobi ordered tea and the serving droid departed to fetch the tea. Dooku watched Kenobi scanned the room again, looking for a familiar figure.

“Where’s Qui-Gon?”

Dooku folded his hands on the table. “He’s away.”

And right there, Dooku sensed the cold dread building up in Kenobi. The subtle movement of him leaning away, guarded nearly reminded Dooku of the boy. But those innocent traces warped back to the grave mistrust of a young man. Kenobi took control, sitting upright and hands on table. "Where?"

"It is of no concern for you,” Dooku dismissed, taking a long drink of his own tea.

Kenobi accepted the response or at least understood that pursuing the matter would be futile. Dooku eyed the young man over his cup. Kenobi surveyed the room again, inspecting every detail like the well-trained soldier Dooku created. A small smile played on the Count’s lips. Some of his lessons remained with the young man after all.

The side door opened and the serving droid returned with the tea Kenobi requested. Kenobi thanked the droid before it wheeled right out the same doors. Hands cupped the warm mug, but it never went to Kenobi’s mouth. Kenobi placed it on the table, untouched and let the steam rise to a cool.

Dooku dryly chuckled. “It’s not poison, I assure you,” he told Kenobi. “You may enjoy your tea warm rather than cold.”

Kenobi didn’t reach for the cup. “I did not expect it to be,” he replied. “Such crude behavior is unbecoming of a man of your… stature.”

“Indeed,” Dooku agreed, clasping his hands in a steeple. “The uncivilized are never pleasant company.”

He caught the flicker of aggravation passing through Kenobi’s eyes. “Depends on your definition of uncivilized.”

A few minutes in and already they are battling wits. Like nothing changed. Dooku grinned, leaning closer to the table in ready engagement. “Oh? How would someone of your _stature_ define civilization?”

“Peace, liberty and justice are the essentials to the growth of civilization,” Kenobi recited from what Dooku imagined he learned in his youngling days in the Temple.

A noble effort, but not good enough. Dooku used the Force to move his cup of tea aside. “You support the Republic then? Despite your first-hand experience of its injustice and greed?”

Again the subtle shift in his chair displayed the disquiet that ebbed the young man’s Force. “The Republic may have faults, but they strive to achieve the true test of civilization.”

Dooku cocked his eyebrows, intrigued. “And what is this true test of civilization?”

“Where every man bestows the rights he claims to others,” Kenobi answered. “If every being in the galaxy acted in such manner, then there would be no need for wars, poverty or even hate.”

A political idealist. Like himself when he was younger and naïve to believe such foolishness. Wisdom cleared the fog and opened his eyes to the true evils of society. The fallen of an institution that needed a new direction.

The serving droid returned, bundled with different dishes on its round, silver trap. It zoomed right next to Kenobi’s elbow. With its mechanical arm, it placed a full breakfast at Kenobi’s placemat. Next it whirled to Dooku, placing his own breakfast in front of him. Dooku looked over his meal. Satisfied, he dismissed the droid with a wave.

“You forget, Kenobi,” Dooku said, taking his fork to dig into the omelet. “The Republic may present themselves as a democratic institution, it is far from it internally. Corruption runs rampart. Banking clans are now dictating the laws. Freedom, peace, justice are all ghosts of the past.”

Kenobi placed his napkin on his lap, his fork in hand to dive into the fruit. “Thanks to you, I imagine,” he returned. He bit into the piece of fruit, blue-green eyes widening at the sweet sensation he devoured. “Your invisible hand extends far outside the confines of Serenno. I dare say you have a number of… confidants assisting you in bringing about the death of the Republic.”

“The Republic is already dying, Kenobi,” Dooku countered, biting down on his food and swallowing. “I’m simply helping it to a more painless death.”

“By enacting war and enslaving the galaxy!”

“War demonstrates that changes are needed—necessary to better the galaxy,” Dooku said, unperturbed by Kenobi’s glowering face. “The Republic is gone. The Jedi weak and chained by those who abuse power. The galaxy needs a strong ruler! Fearless and powerful—”

“You mean yourself?” Kenobi assumed in curt fashion. He rested his fork down, a shake of his head which caused two strands of his hair to come loose from its combed position. “You wish to replace corruption with more corruption. You want to replace governmental power with _your_ power. You don’t want to better the galaxy. You only want to control it!”

Dooku’s grip on his fork tightened. “Careful with your words, Kenobi.”

Kenobi refused, glaring at Dooku with utmost disgust. “You claim to be a man of refined culture and civilized elegance,” he continued, stirring the, “Yet only an uncivilized man would believe he knows precisely what is right and wrong and believe he can do whatever he wants to achieve it.”

Dooku felt his mouth thinned at the accusation thrown at him. “I suggest you restrain your tongue or else I will cut it off.”

“Already oppressing freedom of speech,” Kenobi revolted. “Only a savage man believes in his own words and atrocities to be the work of enlightenment. Honestly, your _delusions_ know no bounds, Count.”

He heard enough. Disappointed in how the conversation turned, time called for rectification. As a Count of Serenno and future leader of the galaxy, he would not humor insubordination from his underlings. Even if it is the chosen heir to their eventual empire. Another reminder was in order for the young man.

The Force rippled around him, garnering a mass of turbulence as he raised his hand, forefinger closing on his thumb. Dooku no longer felt the need to accommodate Kenobi as he unleashed his power against the young man.

It was slow at first. Kenobi didn’t even realize what happened. He coughed, soft at first before letting out a more violent hack. Gasping soon followed as Kenobi’s silverware slipped from his hands and rattled his plate. Dooku cruelly looked on as Kenobi futilely clawed at his neck. A splotching color of blue and purple bleed into Kenobi’s face as he struggled out of the invisible grip. He perhaps only had a few minutes left to life before his last breath of life escaped him.

The Force thundered, shaken in the disturbance as it crushed Kenobi’s esophagus. Too easy. It was all too easy. A slight of his hand and Kenobi’s neck would be crushed and twisted. Dooku pinched his fingers closer, the Force blaring at the face of death. Dooku ignored such threat, too concentrated on watching Kenobi sink further away from life.

If he listened to the Force, he would have prevented the knife that flew from the side and into his hand. Dooku cried out in both shock and pain. He loosen his reins on the Force, eyes diverted from Kenobi to his injured hand. The knife cut deep, but not enough to make it through the hand. Dripping the handle, he yanked it out of his hand, muttering curses under his breath as he tossed the bloody knife aside. He reached for his napkin and tied it around his gushing wound.

Vision red, he flicked his head up to see Kenobi heaving air back into his lungs. When red and blue-green eyes met, Kenobi snatched his fork and held it up, his only weapon for defense. It was then Dooku realized where the knife came from.

“Well done, Kenobi,” Dooku begrudgingly credited Kenobi’s talent. “You learned to control your fear in the face of death.”

Kenobi said nothing, clutching the fork and panting for more air. The food spilled off his plate, the fruits’ juices staining the cloth and the meat rolled to the floor. Breakfast was over.

Dooku appraised the young man over again. He reached through the Force like a shiv, piercing through Kenobi’s weakened shield. The young man winced at the intrusive, putting up a pathetic effort to block him. “You’re powers have made you stronger,” Dooku withdrew from Kenobi’s mind. The young man sagged in his seat, his hold on the fork loosened. “You still need more training— _refinement_ —before you to take your place within our new order.”

And there. Right there! The furrowed eyebrows, the pinched lip and the fire resonating in the eyes told Dooku that the young man still retained the defiance of his adolescent years. “My place… is with… the Force,” he wheezed. “Not… with you.”

Dooku slipped a small, mocking smile. “And the Force has brought you back here,” he said, meeting Kenobi’s stare evenly, “… swearing allegiance.”

Kenobi scowled at the reminder of his vow he made under torture. Seeing the submission brought a high of pure satisfaction for Dooku. He rose from his seat, circling behind Kenobi as he took in the look of defeated young man. For years, Dooku spent countless hours dismantling the defiance to rebuild the young man into the perfect apprentice. With Kenobi at his mercy, power was at his cusps. All he needed was Skywalker.

He clasped two hands on both sides of Kenobi’s shoulders. The young man’s shoulders tensed under the grip and the Force churned, dread building up within Kenobi’s young soul followed by a rage that made him tremble. Dooku’s smile only widened. A surge of power emitted from the young man. A power Dooku now controlled.

He gave the young man a firm squeeze. “Finish your breakfast,” he commanded. “I look forward to more _enlightening_ conversation as this one.”

The look Kenobi threw at him amused Dooku. After all, it was all Kenobi could do to retaliate against him. Dooku held all the power. All of the control. Dooku let his hands linger before he slid them off the young man’s bony shoulders, striding to the door to leave Kenobi to fume in solitary.

Strolling down the corridor to check in with the secret project on the other side of the palace, he spotted Qui-Gon hurrying up. Eyes meeting, they both slowed to properly greet one another.

Dooku linked his hands behind him. “Anything to report?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Fett is making his way to Coruscant as we speak,” he reported to Dooku. “He promised delivery in two nights.”

Two nights? An impossibility for many bounty hunters. The again, Jango Fett was no ordinary bounty hunter. A prime soldier and an excellent strategist. What he promised always turned true. It was they hired him for the most daring and important and valuable tasks. He always did the job. He never failed.

“Good,” Dooku approved. “Once everything is in order, we can finally initiate our plan into action. No more waiting or postponing. Our time has come, Qui-Gon. Our future is beginning.”

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement. “Indeed, everything we worked for is finally coming together,” he said. “Speaking of which… have you seen Obi-Wan?”

Of course Qui-Gon would be concerned over his old padawan. Dooku nudged his head behind him. “He’s finishing his breakfast,” he passed along. “I must warn you, he’s not in a welcoming mood.”

“Why?” Qui-Gon questioned. “What did the two of you argue over this time?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Dooku remained vague. “We simply engaged in a _civilized_ discussion.”

There was a note of doubt flickering behind Qui-Gon’s eyes. “Hmmm, I see,” he muttered. “Well, nonetheless, I need to talk to him. Have a good day, Master.”

They parted, leaving for their desired destination. Dooku’s mouth peeled into a smile. In two nights, the galaxy would be at his feet. A new beginning rising to destroy the seeds of corruption and free the universe of its chains! Dooku’s vision brought peace, power and structure to a cruel, greedy and corrupted society. He championed the right of power to rule the weak. The Jedi failed the galaxy, but Dooku’s order would not. His legacy would save the galaxy from convoluted species who dare to abuse it for their own coinage. No more. With Dooku in charge, there would be no more parasites. No more weakness. Absolute power and right would reign.

Only he would have the final word. Him and his legacy.

* * *

Obi-Wan didn’t finish his breakfast. His throat too sore to swallow, leaving the perfectly good food go to waste. Qui-Gon surprised him when he entered the dining room. He had thought Qui-Gon abandoned him to Dooku. He asked where Qui-Gon was, to which he received no answer. Confidential Qui-Gon told him. Obi-Wan didn’t bother to pry.

As promised, Qui-Gon filled him in on the new changes. Obi-Wan’s pledged allegiance granted him more access to the palace and facilities. He no longer needed to be caged in his room. He had the freedom to go wherever he wished, with the exception of the hanger, the front entrance, the south wing and their respective bedchambers. Not only was he allowed restricted freedom, Obi-Wan received a private squad of droids. Not under his command, but to be his personal guard and servants. They were to follow him wherever he went.

And, of course, Qui-Gon saved the best for last. “Dooku and I are giving you the Duchess as well,” he said to Obi-Wan as the serving droid picked up the remaining dishes from the table. “She’s is your guest now. Under your care and responsibility and hospitality.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “How kind,” he muttered, before taking a long, hard look at Qui-Gon. “Then I demand that she goes free. A ship shall be provided for her to return to Mandalore.”

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to draw out a heavy sigh like he bore unpleasant news. “I’m afraid that will not be possible.”

“Why not?”

“If the Duchess returns to Mandalore, she will be killed,” he said, leaning comfortably in his seat like he was discussing the weather. “Mandalore is now controlled by Death Watch. The only reason the Duchess survived is because your love protected her.

“I fear if she returns, Death Watch will not spare her again,” Qui-Gon warned, almost sounding sympathetic to the perilous situation. “It would be best if she stayed here. Under your protection.”

Qui-Gon rose from his seat, pushing in his chair as he studied Obi-Wan’s sorrowed face. “Don’t look so sad, Obi-Wan,” he said. “You and the Duchess are together now. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Yes and no. Obi-Wan loved Satine, but he never wanted this for her. For them. To be stuck in a prison, their fates decided and lives controlled. It was far better when they were separated, loving one another at a distance.

Obi-Wan pleaded once more for Satine’s freedom, but Qui-Gon only offered a scenario that played out Satine’s demise. In the end, it would be best if Satine remained as their “guest” and enjoy their hospitality.

Finished with the rules and duties Obi-Wan must follow and perform, he was granted leave to visit Satine. His designated bodyguards led him to his old prison cell, entering the code so he may step inside to see the occupant. The doors opened and the droids strode forward, but stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand.

“I’ll enter alone, if you don’t mind,” he told his guards. “I prefer a bit of privacy. You may stand outside. I’ll call if needed.”

The droids affirmed his command. “Roger, roger.”

Obi-Wan stepped inside the familiar bedroom that once held him prisoner. Already, his eyes drew to the one living being in the room, dressed in red and hair perfectly designed to flatter her angular face. Trailing down, he saw how elegantly the dress hid the scars of the brutality she recovered from, betraying her status as a prisoner. If anything, she truly looked like she belonged her. The dress itself was made of silk, designed to flatter her slender body as it barely touched the floor. Gold and black laces embroidered the dress, accenting her social class as someone of importance.

She looked stunning. A rare rose. For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan was at a loss of words.

The door behind him closed. That hiss of the closed door brought Satine to turn away from the window she gaze out. Blue flames flared in her eyes as she took notice of Obi-Wan.

Seeing life in her eyes once again, brought Obi-Wan out of his stupor. He let out a weary relief. “Satine! I’m—”

Satine silenced him with a sharp slap across the face. His head snapped, neck cracking from the impact. Heat burned as a sting lingered on the nerves. He gently cupped his cheek, his finger light on the tender skin that swelled. He heard buzzing, a voice static and yet ringing. Satine was yelling at him.

He deserved it. The slap. The yelling. He deserved it all.

As his ears toned down the ringing, Obi-Wan heard Satine’s shrill coming in loud and clear.

“How dare you!” Satine screamed, brows slanted sharply downward. “I am not some _doll_ you can dress up as you see fit and command me to do as you desire! I’m not your slave”

“Satine!” Obi-Wan tried to speak through his tirade. “I’m not—”

She tried to slap him again, but Obi-Wan’s Jedi-like reflexes saved him. He snatched her wrist, gently restraining her more aggressive qualities. “Please Satine—”

He misjudged Satine’s fighting prowess. Hands immobilized, she resorted to her legs. She gave a hard kick to Obi-Wan’s shins before thrusting her knee up at his groin.

And all of Obi-Wan’s strength dissipated. Pain reign supremacy, leaving him shocked and broken. He dropped to his knees, recoiling on himself for further protection. He shuddered a breath, drawing in tight as to help him recover. So much for being a pacifist.

Taking deep breaths, the pain slowly resided to a slight numb. Above him, Satine kept speaking.

“If you _think_ I will ever address you as either ‘ _master’_ or ‘ _lord’_ ,” Satine’s anger carried overhead, “then you have another thing coming!”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I do not wish for you to address me as such,” he said, his breathing uneven as he gained composure. He returned to his feet, his body ached from her blows. “Please do not hit me again. I fear I won’t survive another one of your carefully aimed strikes.”

Satine scowled at the request and she jabbed a finger at him. “I will not be your slave!”

“Nor do I wish for you to be,” Obi-Wan assured her, muscles tight in his face as he bore the remaining pain. He gestured to the sitting chairs. “Please? Can we sit and talk peacefully without the need of such… aggressive negotiations?”

Satine arched a brow in the direction of the chairs. The cogs in her mind clicking before she nodded in stiff agreement. They sat down, comfortable as much as one could be in a tense setting. “Satine—I apologize for putting you in this predicament,” Obi-Wan leaned over his armchair, looking straight into her fiery eyes. “I would never—I promise I’ll get you out of this.”

Satine’s eyes narrowed. “How will you do that?” she demanded and when Obi-Wan didn’t answer right away, she huffed. “You don’t have plan. I’m a prisoner here! Trapped while my people suffer.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “I’m so sorry Satine,” he apologized. “I heard about Death Watch and… I’ll do my best to get you out of here. Back to your people. You have my word. My promise.”

All the fury that fired Satine earlier in their reunion melted. She slouched in her chair, shoulders drooping and eyes half hooded. “Promise is a big word, Obi-Wan,” she tired, staring longingly out the window. “It either makes something or breaks everything.” Satine turned her gaze upon him. “Don’t make promises you cannot keep. That they won’t _let_ you keep.”

Obi-Wan grimaced in acknowledgment of her words. “They may have my honor and duty, but not my heart.” Obi-Wan lifted his head and reached for Satine’s hand. He grasped them, cradling them as his finger stroke her knuckles. “Satine,” he prompted to get her attention. “My heart belongs to you.”

Satine glanced away, pained at his confession. “Obi-Wan…”

“It’s true Satine. I love you!” he professed. There was no reason to hide it now. Qui-Gon and Dooku were well aware of their mutual feelings. “I will never let any harm come to you as long as I live.”

Satine’s eyes glossed. Her bottom lip trembled. “Oh Obi-Wan… please don’t do this now.”

Obi-Wan sat, stumped. “Do what?” he questioned. “You’ve known how I felt since that mission on Mandalore. All I am saying is that I will find a way to free you from this place.”

“And that is what bothers me,” Satine argued. She yanked her hand out of Obi-Wan’s grasp and stood up from her seat, moving away. “You’re willing to free me, but what about you? How can you ask me to leave while knowingly leaving you behind with those monsters?”

“You must,” Obi-Wan insisted, following her. “It’s the only way to guarantee your freedom.”

Satine fell silent, pacing the room as her agitation pulsed through the Force. “What about your freedom?” she inquired. “I can’t leave you here with them. Not when they can—”

The words fell off her lips soundlessly. The chilly reflection in her blue eyes brought back the memory of her first-hand torture at the hands of the Sith. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her thin waist.

Seeing Satine reliving that painful memory overwhelmed Obi-Wan. He closed the gap between them, pulling Satine into an embrace. Her head rested against his chest, his chin on top of her head as he sheltered her with his body. Obi-Wan burdened her pain, his hand resting on her back as he sent waves of the Force through Satine as the body began to tremble. He sensed her tears streaming down her face. Grief replaced fear and anger. All that pent-up energy dissolved, leaving Satine helpless and depressed.

Satine sniffled, her fingers clutched on his tunic. “Oh—Obi-Wan,” she murmured through her tears. “What are we going to do?”

Obi-Wan held her close, emitting warmth through the Force as he gently rocked her. He privately swore he would find a way to release her from this accursed prison. He must! He cannot let Qui-Gon or Dooku destroy everything good in his life.

He kissed Satine’s head. “I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered. “I promise.”


	33. Folly

"Again."

Obi-Wan lurched to his feet, surveying the fight once more. After only spending an hour with S, he was dragged back to the training salle. Unlike last night, Obi-Wan was given a wooden stick to defend himself. Qui-Gon had one as well, spinning it in his hand as he waited for O to readjust his sparring position. 

Readied, they dueled again. They got in a handful of strikes before Qui-Gon smacked Obi-Wan's back and knocked him to the floor once more.

"Again!" Qui-Gon shouted, face burning red not out of exhaustion but in frustration. "Focus Obi-Wan! A first year padawan can do this."

Obi-Wan pushed off the floor, rising to his unsteady feet. The discarded wooden stick flew to his hand at command as he walked back to the same position. Qui-Gon spoke the truth. A first year padawan could easily perform these maneuvers and tricks. Obi-Wan knew he could out-perform Qui-Gon in these duels, but his heart wasn't in it and his mind preoccupied with thoughts of escape. Ever since leaving S, his mind spun out countless routes and endless consequences. 

Lined up again, he raised the staff to signal another bout of sparring. And as the same before, he ended up losing his own staff and having Qui-Gon's staff cutting across his throat. 

"Solah," he mumbled and moved to gather his staff.

Qui-Gon tapped his staff against Obi-Wan's chest to stop him. "Your mind wanders," he accused. "Emotions clouding your focus."

"Or I'm out of practice."

Qui-Gon was not amused. "What's troubling your mind?" he asked, lowering his staff.                  

"Too many things to consider."

Qui-Gon fingered his beard. "Your concerns for the Duchess are well-wasted," he said, going straight to the point of his troubles. "She's perfectly safe."

Obi-Wan shot a doubtful look. "Your brand of hospitality is something to be left desirable."

"It's not our hospitality that's being given," Qui-Gon said, holding his staff upright. "If you wish for her to be unharmed, then she'll be unharmed. It's that simple."

"I learned, a long time ago, that things are never quite simple."

Qui-Gon resigned with a nod, brows drawn together with thought. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Humor me," Qui-Gon said. "Close your eyes."

"I'd rather not."

"Close your eyes," Qui-Gon commanded, a flicker of warning shared between the two.

With a scoff, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The loss of his sight made him guarded. His limbs rigid in preparation for an assault against him. He took a few shallow breaths to release his emotions, but they strung around him, relentless of not wanting to be tossed aside. 

As he quelled his mind, Qui-Gon's voice sung around him. "Focus on the Duchess," he instructed. "Use the Force to sense her."

Obi-Wan sensed her. Her anger, depression and fear cratered the Force, a tumor growing as the darkness festered in the height of the Dark Side.

Qui-Gon’s voice echoed around him. "What do you sense?"

"Sorrow."

"And?"

Obi-Wan's toes curled into the floor. "Anger."

"Is that all?"

"Those two not good enough?" Obi-Wan snarked. 

"Don't get angry," Qui-Gon replied, voice calm and steady. "I'm helping you."

"How?" Obi-Wan grumbled, the edges of his mind prickled. "All you managed to do is inform me how miserable my  _guest_  is."

He heard a long sigh of weariness. "Breathe, Obi-Wan. Do not let your emotions cloud your better judgment."

Obi-Wan's fingers formed fists, despising Qui-Gon's recital of the Code back to him. For a man who no longer believed in such honor, it was surprising and disturbing to hear him quote it. 

Qui-Gon's voice called from behind him. "Please answer—do you sense anything else?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. "No."

"No fear. No danger?"

"No."

"So no fear and no danger," Qui-Gon reiterated and Obi-Wan sensed Qui-Gon circling, studying him. "Then why is your mind troubled with the Duchess?"

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to demean the question. "Is it not our duty as beings to feel compassion for others?"

"Compassion—yes. But do not let it drive you to unreasonable fear," Qui-Gon advised, his footfalls nearly silent against the wood flooring. "Your mind is troubled because of the weight of responsibility. You blame yourself for her predicament, but in all honesty, it could be worse."

At that Obi-Wan snapped his eyes opened. "Could be worse? What's worst than losing your home and freedom?" he challenged, spurts of anger quaking the Force within him. "To know that your own people are being brutally slaughtered!"

Qui-Gon fortified his Force presence. Expression blank and his Force signature muted that Obi-Wan could not pinpoint any feeling or thought running through the SL's mind. They looked at one another, one with power superiority and the other moral superiority. The principles clashed, but no explosion occurred. Obi-Wan's temper bounced off Qui-Gon, like Obi-Wan's reasons to be upset were fatuous.

Their standoff lulled into an overbearing silence. Obi-Wan's temper cooled, all the heat in his face chilled as the currents of the Force gently lapped against the edge of his conscious. He took in a steady breath, and released the bitter taste fron his mouth with a single breath. His hot emotions blowing away with it. 

A victorious smirk hid underneath Qui-Gon's beard. "Let's try again," he said, adjusting Obi-Wan to stand directly in front of him. "Close your eyes."

Obi-Wan kept his cold glare on Qui-Gon a little longer before he slipped his eyelids down, trapping him in darkness. The shiver in the Force warned Obi-Wan to be careful. He planted his feet, situating himself to spring in case it was necessary. But the lapping waves along Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's bond told a different story. One of serenity and gentleness. Trust and...

Obi-Wan banished the thoughts away. Qui-Gon was manipulating him. Again. He kept hold of the dark truth, clinging as it tussled him in the violent storm. A thunderous call erupted from above. 

"Clear your mind," came Qui-Gon's voice. "Search the Force."

With nothing better to do, Obi-Wan humored Qui-Gon and meditated as much as he could in the rumbustious Force. The muscles on his face constricted for a moment as he banished the loud noise in his head.  Minutes ticked and he found himself plunging into an icy bath until finally everything settle and hot air wasn't burning his lungs. Tranquility brushed against his mind and his muscles all unwound. A hymn of a song floated around him, centering him in peace. 

There was no danger or darkness or even fear. All banished away the louder the song played. He listened to it carefully, surprised to recognize the tune. He pursed his lips together, imitating the song he knew from heart. He blew out and his sound joined in the song, blending with the other voice. The Force hummed, cradling him as the song continued. Engulfed and fading into peaceful oblivion...

A snare jerked him, throwing him off his tranquil remedy and back into the frigid cold training salle.

"What are you doing?" came Qui-Gon's sharp voice.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows. "You told me to clear my head."

Qui-Gon’s eyes danced dangerously like fires in a flame. "You were humming."

"So?" Obi-Wan said, baffled by Qui-Gon's sharp tone over a silly melody. "It helps clear my head."

"Where did you hear it?"

"What?"

" _The song_!" Qui-Gon snatched Obi-Wan's arm. "Where did you hear it? Who taught you that song?"

Obi-Wan sharply inhaled to cover the grimace he felt from the ever increasing pressure underneath Qui-Gon's iron grip. He half expected his bones to shatter any moment. "I don't remember. I… I suppose I heard it when I was young?"

That didn't sated Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan winced at the increased pressure. He quickly scanned his memories, recalling any songs he ever heard until he finally found the answer. "Um... Tahl!" he winced, his breath pitched. "She sang it to me once. Or a few times. I can't remember—my arm…”

Right then Qui-Gon released him. Obi-Wan doubled back, cradling his bruised arm as he assessed the pain. Qui-Gon paced a little, hands pushing back his long mane behind his ears. "Sorry—you simply... surprised me," he uttered and he drew a deep breath, the rigidity of his shoulders evening out. "I had not heard that song in a long time."

Nor Obi-Wan. But for some reason, it came back to him. He heard the song a few days ago too… when he was going in and out of the Force. He heard it then. When he was desperate and helpless. 

"I've forgotten it," Obi-Wan confessed with a shrug as he massaged his sore arm. "I mean... I hadn't heard it since she..." Obi-Wan couldn't finish the last his saying. He left it hanging on his lips, brushed away with a simple wipe from the back of his hand. "Are we done here?"

Qui-Gon gestured his hand and Obi-Wan's wooden stick flew up to him. Obi-Wan caught it with, groaning inward as he came to realize it was no over at all. Qui-Gon spun his stick as he squatted in position. "We are done when you beat me."

* * *

The droid told her multiple times that she was an honored guest at the palace. She had free reign to go wherever she pleased, including going into the city to shop and dine. But Satine had no heart to play along with the charade. She knew exactly what she was and she refused to be a part of their manipulation. She opted to stay in her room, having meals carted to her. Glancing at the time, it had been five hours since she last saw Obi-Wan. They were together for a short time before the droids took him away.

She didn't remain idle though. In the hours left in solitude, she poured over the room, looking for anything useful in a possible escape. Her initial glance told her enough that an escape from the bedroom was impossible. It didn't surprise her at all. Not when she realized it was originally Obi-Wan's room prior to her arrival. The Siths would make a luxurious room a prison trap. 

As she combed through her mind on other possible routes, the door to her room wisp opened. She darted to the far side of the room, worried that it may be an unpleasant person.

She raised her guard, composed and showing no sign of fear as the person stepped through the threshold. 

A beat. 

"What did I do this time?"

It was only Obi-Wan. And the look on his face showed signs of exhaustion and pain. Satine brought down her guard and hurried over to him. "Nothing. I thought you were someone else."

That brought some life back into his eyes. "Who? Did someone come and see you?"

Satine shook her head. "No... just a droid. I only worried it may have been someone else."

Obi-Wan exhaled, relieved. "No, it's only me." 

He walked over to her and Satine caught a waft of strong odor circulating in the air. "You smell like a dead bantha."

The comment jostled a rumbustious laugh. "Excuse me, my dear," he apologized, that smirk etched on his face. "I'll return to the quarantine area." He walked around Satine, heading straight to the refresher. 

He showered quickly. Hardly five minutes after he walked through the door, Obi-Wan came out with floppy wet hair and smelled like vanilla. Or something equivalent to that scent. He handed the towel off to the cleaning droid that zipped into the room and out of the room in a flash. 

"Curious droid," Satine murmured as Obi-Wan came back to her side. "How did it know you were taking a shower?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I imagine my privacy is very limited. Probably can't even cough without everyone here knowing." Obi-Wan slid into a chair, releasing a sigh of relief as he did. He looked back to Satine. "How was your day?"

"Nothing to rave about."

"Are they treating you well?"

"No, but that is expected when one is a prisoner," Satine said, crossing her arms as she glared about the room. When her eyes landed on Obi-Wan, she relented. "They haven't hurt me since that night, if that is what you mean."

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, a whistling of breath. "That's... that's good."

Satine arched a fine brow. "And you? What have you been doing?"

The laugh lines turned to scars as Obi-Wan fell back, stiff. "Training."

"For what?" She didn't know why she asked. The answer was quite obviously, but it slipped off her tongue readily. Perhaps because she secretly hoped he would give her a different answer. 

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You know the answer."

Her shoulders sagged, hunched in defeat. "I hoped to be wrong," she dropped her hands to her knees. "They didn't—"

"Let's not worry about me," Obi-Wan waved away her concern. "Let's focus on you. I can keep trying to renegotiate your release, but... I doubt they will budge from it."

Satine began to speak, but then stopped. She glanced about the room, searching for any hidden holocameras. She wondered if they were listening to them now. Most likely. “Then let’s not speak of it at all.”

Obi-Wan understood what she meant. He always did… well, most of the time. “We could—”

The sharp hiss of the doors opening distracted whatever Obi-Wan was going to say next. They both snapped their attention to the doors, watching Magnaguards march into the room. Satine stiffened at the sight while Obi-Wan only acted exasperated. He rose to his feet and met the guards halfway, placing him strategically in front of Satine.

"What message do you bring?" he asked. 

"Count Dooku demands you report to him."

Satine couldn't see his face, but the way his shoulder went rigid told her enough to know he's not pleased. "Did he say why?"

"You are to report to him. Immediately."

The droids upheld the secrecy and Obi-Wan cursed under his breath. "Oh, all right," he grumbled and turned to Satine. "I'll return as soon as I can."

As he moved away, heading for the door, she almost cried out for him to stop. To not go and leave her alone. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, watching him walk away all over again. The door closed behind him and Satine was alone.

She removed herself from the bed and strolled to the window. Seeing all the wildlife and mountainous range surprised her and, to be truthful, made her envious. She wished Mandalore looked as gorgeous as the view before her. Instead, war rampaged and burned it until it became a desert. 

She sighed, dropping her forehead against the cool glass. She breathed, letting out all the tension within her until she inhaled again. A cruel cycle. One minute, she was perfectly fine and the next, all that anger returned and she got the urge to simply jump out the window. Except the window wouldn't open. Unless allowed by the Sith Lords. 

Satine trembled at the reminder of who her "hosts" were. She remembered Obi-Wan's stories of the Sith, the death and destruction and power fanatics as she liked to consider them. They had taken her hostage, stringing her life up as promised retribution if Obi-Wan stepped out of line. And Obi-Wan. She could see his sorrow behind his stubborn mask. The way his eyes dimmed into a gloom state upon seeing her as if he personally dragged her to this room. Satine didn't blame him. Well, not once she got her bearings together. She realized he was as much as a hostage as she was. Possibly even worse. The Sith Lords cared little for her. As long as she did not disrupt them, then she basically didn't exist. As for Obi-Wan, there was nothing he could or could not do without someone knowing. Already, fatigue wore him down and he looked far worse than he did on Naboo. Shallow cheeks, weak smile and bags underneath his eyes told Satine everything she feared. Obi-Wan was dying. 

She heard the door hiss opened and her heart leapt up again. She spun around, forgoing the view to be with Obi-Wan again. Except it wasn't Obi-Wan. 

It was Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon charmed her with a smile before, with a flick of his hand, closed the door behind him. "Good afternoon Duchess," he said, bowing before her. Satine raised a quizzical brow at the gesture. Certainly a Sith Lord would care less to bow to another. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

What was there to interrupt? She was alone and trapped in a room. "You are not."

Qui-Gon looked around for a moment before he opted to sit in the same seat Obi-Wan occupied a few minutes ago. "I came by to check on you," he said, probably seeing the confusion on her face. "I'm sure Obi-Wan visited earlier, but I wanted to make sure you're comfortable."

Satine eyed him, back pressed against the window that the sill uncomfortably jabbed into her spine. She didn't make a move nor did she show any sign of fear. She schooled her features into her regal mask: unemotional and unreadable. 

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You have nothing to fear from me, Duchess," he promised. "I won't harm you."

"Until it benefits you, am I correct?"

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose high on his forehead before they fell back to humorous sketch. "Obi-Wan has certainly told you extravagant tales," he said, reclining in the chair, propping one foot over the knee. "Believe it or not, you will not be harmed by my hand or anyone else here. You are well protected."

"Of course," Satine answered, flippantly. "My padded cell keeps me will confined to venture out."

"You have free reign," Qui-Gon reminded her. "If you like, you may even go into the city."

"With an army of droids, I suppose."

"With bodyguards," Qui-Gon promptly corrected. "It's far too dangerous for a beautiful, young woman like yourself to venture to an unknown city alone."

"I like to think it's the other way around," Satine volleyed back, not appreciating his insinuation.

A smirk twisted the corners of Qui-Gon's mouth. "Ah, yes. A Mandalorian ruler does have a dangerous ring to it," he admitted. "However, I know you Duchess. A pacifist at heart. You won't harm a living soul, which leaves you vulnerable."

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“With words, perhaps.”

Satine felt her cheeks go scarlet. “And sometimes it only takes a single word to end a war.”

“Like ‘kill’,” Qui-Gon mockingly replied. “Or ‘fight’, perhaps?”

Satine’s face burned. Belittling was what bullies did. No longer interested in battling with the Sith Lord any longer, she crossed her arms and frowned. “What do you want?”

After all, Sith Lords didn’t venture into polite conversation without wanting something. And, Satine knew Qui-Gon walked in with a purpose in mind. As to what, she didn’t know and it worried her as to what was going through his mind.

Qui-Gon did not feign surprise at her bluntness. It seemed even _he_ was tedious of the dance they had going. “I know you and Obi-Wan are planning ways to escape,” he started, cutting straight to business. “I’m here to dissuade you from such folly.”

“Folly?” Satine chagrined. “You consider seeking freedom foolish?”

“You will not find freedom if you leave,” Qui-Gon warned. “Only death.”

“Then you do plan to kill me after all?” Satine sneered. She was not surprised at all to hear this tidbit of news. “If I so try to even _flee_ for Mandalore, you will strike me down.”

“Of course not,” Qui-Gon dismissed, still sitting casually and unemotional. Cool and apathetic to the emotionally charged Duchess. “Has Obi-Wan not told you?”

“Tell me what?” She didn’t like the direction the conversation had turned. What trick did Qui-Gon carry up his robes this time?

Qui-Gon tilted his head, confusion swimming in his eyes until they cleared with comprehension. “Ah… I see he did not. Probably didn’t wish to burden you.”

Satine grew annoyed at Qui-Gon’s lack of forthcoming. “Tell me what?” she repeated.

Qui-Gon folded his arms on his lap, suddenly his face was long and sympathetic. "I'm afraid you won't be able to return to Mandalore. Not with Death Watch in control. They want nothing more than for you to be dead,” he passed on the grave news as if it devastated him. The man who let Death Watch loose upon Mandalore. “For your own safety, it is best you remain here under our protection."

Satine was not moved by his benevolent nature. "The only reason I lost Mandalore to Death Watch is because of you.”

"And the only reason you ever had Mandalore in the first place is because of me," Q cruelly remarked and Satine thought she saw a flicker of yellow flashing in those blue pools. "Did you really _believe_ it was your pacifist views that crowned you? That you won your seat because you chose to remain non-violent?”

Satine went to retort, but Qui-Gon cut her off. “You only had your crown because of myself and Obi-Wan. We won a war for you. We even _killed_ for you,” he growled. There was no mistaking the yellow poison that streamed into his eyes like lava flowing into an ocean. “You dirty others’ hands with blood so that you may keep yours clean. You’re a hypocrite at best, Duchess.”

Satine went rigid. Coldness swept over her until her heart exploded with a raw decry. "How _dare_ you—"

Qui-Gon waved his hand and Satine felt her body become immobile. "I’m not wrong,” he said, “and it’s best you show some gratitude,” His anger slowly resided, the yellow retracting from his eyes at every breath. He no longer resembled a rancor. But, he was still just as deadly under that cool demeanor. “If you wish to deny it, then so be it. But one cannot change the truth.”

If she wasn’t immobile, her hands would have balled into fists. Anger and hate swelled under her breast. He was wrong! She never—she didn’t—she never _supported_ violence! Even in her own name. She heckled Obi-Wan almost nonstop about his use of his lightsaber when they were on the run. They argued daily over different war philosophies, sometimes ending on antagonistic terms. Satine condoned violence! And she never asked anyone to fight and murder in her name.

Yet, Qui-Gon’s words stabbed right into her heart. She realized it was Obi-Wan’s effort with his blade that kept her alive from the Death Watch who fired blasters at them. It was the loyal clan members who took up their armor and weapons to stand and fight against the invading Death Watch. While Satine sat back, in the safety of Obi-Wan’s arms, others were fighting her battles and perishing. She did not ask for their lives nor to take weapons. But, what else would they do? Defend their duchess and homes from tyrants, and it cost them greatly.

The invisible binds that wrapped around her loosen and she was free to move again and breathed a bit easier. One breath. Two breaths. All of it steadily escaping her parted lips as she suffered under the weight of different truths.

Qui-Gon suddenly appeared by her side, a box of tissues in his hand. “I did not come to antagonize you, Duchess,” he claimed, staring at her with soft fondness and sympathies. “Here—” Qui-Gon offered a tissue again. “There’s no need to cry. What’s done is done.”

Satine hadn’t realized she was crying. She touched her cheek. Her fingertips touched warm water. She took the proffered tissue and dabbed her eyes. The tissue returned, soggy from leftover tears. She wished she hadn’t cried in front of a Sith Lord. It showed a weakness, something he could now lord over her for the rest of her secluded life.

After regaining some of her composure, she flicked her hardened gaze back to Qui-Gon. “What do you want?”

She needed to know. Qui-Gon’s insistence she stayed meant she had a much bigger role than she expected. Her belief that she was a bargaining tool to be used against Obi-Wan now seemed utterly wrong. But, Satine had no idea what other option she had left. And that worried her.

Qui-Gon gently led her to a chair to sit. Once she took her seat, he used the Force to pull up another chair and sat down next to her. “Despite what you may have heard elsewhere,” Qui-Gon began, that gentle smile returning, “I do care about Obi-Wan. He’s like a son to me and I do not wish to see him suffer.

“These next few months (possibly years!) are going to be hard on him,” Qui-Gon privately confessed, glimpsing up at Satine with fatigued awareness. Almost like he disliked the burden he was forcing upon Obi-Wan. “He’ll need something or _someone_ to help him through this transition. To keep him _happy_.”

A chill swept over her. Its frosty tendrils curling over every inch of her body. Her mind trembled as pieces fit perfectly, forming a picture that disturbed and revolted her. His words like a coming doom to her as he continued speaking.

“You, Duchess, have always managed to bring back a little bit of spark in Obi-Wan. You always made him happy. A rare accomplishment,” Qui-Gon went on, coming up to his final admission. He took her hand. Satine’s first instinct was to jerk it away. She rather have her hand chewed off by womp rats than to be held by a Sith. But, she thought better and let the Sith Lord cradle her hand in his own, callous, rough hand.

“Obi-Wan will never say this, but he _needs_ you, Satine,” Qui-Gon impressed upon her, hand squeezing her own. “Now more than ever. And I fear leaving will only result more pain for him.”

More pain? It seemed impossible for Satine to have that type of power. What perturbed her the most was Qui-Gon insinuating that it was _she_ who would bring about the most suffering upon Obi-Wan when the obvious answer was Qui-Gon.

As Satine took all this in, Qui-Gon let her hand slip from his own. He straightened his shoulders and he suddenly loomed over Satine like a giant. “So—I advise you to consider that, maybe, this is your best option,” he concluded, looking down with a panoply of empathy and assertion. “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I know you’ve contemplated on a life without the burden of ruling a planet.”

She did. Years ago when her heart grew fonder for her protector, she started to picture another life. Wonderful dreams invaded her sleep. Fleeting images of children with strawberry blonde hair came and went, along with a deep chuckle and dimpled smile.

Yes, she considered a life different from the path she walked, but it was only a dream. She was a Mandalorian and Obi-Wan a Jedi. Ancient enemies. She fancied the idea of being a mother and wife. Still did, but her burned her love and that future on a pyre when Obi-Wan said farewell to her. She no longer focused on him or their possible future. The children vanished. The smile lingered, but it too eventually disappeared from her thoughts.

That was until everything that happened in the past week. Seeing Obi-Wan again, back on Naboo, brought nostalgia in full swing. All the tenderness and affectionate touches returned. Drumming of hearts, coming back to rhythm. And those old dreams came flooding back into her.

A teardrop landed on her lap. She muttered a curse. She never liked crying. Already cried enough for two lifetimes.

Qui-Gon half cupped Satine’s face, a thumb brushing away another tear. “This is your chance,” he appealed. “You are free from your duties to pursue what your heart wants. Don’t waste it.”

He bent down and the cold kiss on her forehead jolted shivers down her spine. Qui-Gon patted her shoulder once and turned for the door. Satine listened to the footfalls and the soft hiss of the door opening.

“I know you’ll do the right thing,” Qui-Gon said, departing from her room.

The door hissed shut and Satine was alone again to dwell on her troubling future.

* * *

Dinner was uneventful. Bant was called away to assist her master, which meant he had to eat with the other Jedi younglings. He wanted to sit alone, but the crèche master forced him to sit at a table that included Ferus. The two glared at each other. Not saying a word. Anakin doubted he would ever receive an apology from a bully like Ferus, but what surprised him the most was how well-liked he was with his peers. They all looked to him with admiration or respect. It baffled Anakin. Didn’t any of them see how much of a karking sleemo he was?

With dinner over, Anakin was ushered back with the rest of the clan and taken to their quarters. They engaged in their nightly meditation to which Anakin used the time to picture beating the crap out of Ferus in a lightsaber duel. That earned Anakin a round of sixty push-ups from the Master Krav once she discovered in his head.

It was nearly bedtime when Bant returned, requesting to take Anakin for a night stroll. Luckily, the master had no true authority over Anakin and he basically bounced out of the room to join Bant. They took their time heading to the gardens. The one place Anakin enjoyed more than the space hanger. He was riveted by the stories Bant told about Obi-Wan. He especially enjoyed the one where Siri shoved him into the artificial river. Almost felt like justice for the time Obi-Wan accidently dropped him in a lake.

“Now that I shared a few good laughs,” Bant said, walking slowly to a bench. She sat down and Anakin followed suit. Above them, the stars of galaxies hoovered. Simply stardust. “Tell me what troubles you.”

Anakin immediately shrugged and look down. “Nothing.”

Bant’s knowing gaze didn’t waiver. “Don’t lie to me, young one,” she said. “I’m not a master nor on the Council. You can speak freely. Besides, we had a deal—remember?”

He remembered and sighed heavily, retreating back into the metal rims of the bench. “I’m worried about Obi-Wan. I know you Jedi have this ‘no emotions’ code, but I’m not _you!_ I can’t ignore them and I don’t want to.”

“No one is asking you to ignore your feelings, Anakin,” Bant quietly assured him. Her encouraging smile radiant and massaging a trifle of tension away. “We advising you to be careful with your emotions. If you let your emotions dictate you, then you are nothing more than a slave to them. No control—and you eventually lose everything.”

Anakin’s head shot up, eyes shining. “I’m not a slave!”

Bant withdrew, perplexed by his sudden argument. “I’m not saying you are,” she cautiously replied. “I’m only explaining why the Jedi are wary with emotions. With our gifts… it would be a terrible thing to lose control.”

She reached out her webbed hand, looping it around Anakin’s shoulders. “It’s okay to miss Obi-Wan. I did. I still do,” she confessed in a mourning whisper. “But I cannot let my sorrow consume me or else… or else I won’t be able to help Obi-Wan at all.”

Anakin cocked a susceptible eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Bant graced him with a big smile before she ruffled his hair. “It is late,” she said. “We should get you to bed.”

Anakin groaned. “I’m not tired though.”

“You will be though come morning,” Bant teased. She got off the bench and waited for Anakin to follow. “Come on! I would hate to see you grumpy tomorrow.”

With another huff, Anakin pushed himself off the bench when vertigo overcame him. Rocking on his feet and vision spinning, Anakin collapsed back onto the bench. He vacantly heard Bant calling his name and a small nudge on his shoulder. A panoply of light and dark shrouded him, leaving him in a constricted mess that was too difficult for him to see.

A familiar presence brushed up against his mind. A little tingle before a sharp jab pierced him. Anakin hissed at the invasion, throwing back his own might against the presence. It fled, phasing through the shadows that circled Anakin.

He back away, scanning for an exit. Ice crawled up his leg, coiling it around as it climbed further up him. Panic seized him and he tried to violently throw it off him. Kicking and hitting, but all he felt was air. Madness! Was he losing his mind?

_Anakin!_

That voice! He knew that voice. He glanced about, searching but all he saw were the shadows that enclosed him.

_Anakin!_

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin cried out. “Obi-Wan… where are you? Help!”

No voice. Nothing. The shadows and its oily tendrils continued to circle him. Anakin’s heart thumped loud in his chest, fear squeezing every beat in its claws. A ghostly echoed of a purr hummed in his ears. A darkening voice chuckling.

Anakin’s lungs constricted. Air too thick. Almost like a wool blanket covered his head. His breathing labored as his safety circle got smaller and smaller.

“Obi-Wan…” he whimpered as the shadows inched closer. “Help…”

As the shadows pressured against Anakin’s collapsing safety net, a burst of light stab the shadows. Anakin threw up his hands, covering his eyes as the light burned the dark away. Sight adjusted, Anakin peeked behind his fingers and saw a human figure standing on the far side. A single path composed of perfect white against the scattering parade of shadows.

Anakin lowered his hands. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face from spreading. “Obi-Wan!”

The visage of Obi-Wan didn’t move. It stayed exactly where it was. Anakin started to run to him, but Obi-Wan threw up a hand, halting his progression. Anakin’s feet welded to the floor. Startled, Anakin flipped his eyes back to Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan!” he cried. “Wait!”

Obi-Wan shook his head. _Run Anakin! Run!_

Anakin shook his head. He was tired of running. “I won’t leave you.”

Obi-Wan smiled, but only regret reached his eyes. _I’m sorry_.

Anakin scrunched up his eyes, peering as close as possible to get a good view on Obi-Wan. The shroud retreated and blurriness cleared and all Anakin did upon inspection was gasp.

Obi-Wan’s face was covered in scars. Black scars like dark veins branching over his face.

Anakin’s mouth dropped in horror. “Obi-Wan… your face!”

Obi-Wan dropped his chin. _Go! Run! I can’t hold him off forever!_

Anakin didn’t understand what Obi-Wan meant. He tried again to run toward Obi-Wan, but his guardian changed his direction. He brought up both hands and an invisible, coalesced matter struck Anakin in the center. He felt himself flying backwards, being ripped away from Obi-Wan. Free-falling, Anakin didn’t know how to suspend himself from crashing. He flapped aimlessly until the Force caught him, cradling him until a shake against his shoulder reminded him where he was.

He flipped his eyes open, images a collage of mixed colors. He blinked a few times until it cleared and he met alarmed, globular eyes.

“Anakin? Can you hear me?” came Bant’s soft voice. Her webbed hand cradled the back of his head and the other rested on his forehead. “Anakin?”

“I’m all right,” Anakin croaked and he slowly sat up. He looked around. They were still out in the gardens, but rather than sitting on the bench, Anakin found himself sprawled on the pebbled pathway. His hands were dirtied and hair sandy. “Err… what happened?”

Bant, who had squatted beside him, studied him clinically. Her healer’s habits returning to the forefront as she searched for any signs of injuries. Anakin, however, felt fine. With the exception of that mixed feeling of exhaustion and dread. Bant’s eyes glowed. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said, picking away some of the remaining rubble from his hair. “Are you all right? You were fine for a moment, but then collapsed. I never seen such a thing before.”

“I… I think it was a vision or, I’m not quite sure what it is,” Anakin confessed, pain still lingering across his forehead. “But, I’ve been having them since Mandalore. Master Yoda said it has to do with mine and Obi-Wan’s Force bond. The Siths… they did something and sometimes, I can feel and even see Obi-Wan.”

Bant’s breathing hitched in her throat. “Did you, um, _see_ Obi-Wan?” she enquired.

He did and didn’t. What Anakin saw was not someone he would recognize as Obi-Wan. “I did, but something was wrong. He had these black scars or… or black veins all over his face,” he shuddered at the image of Obi-Wan’s scarred face. “He told me to run.”

“To run?”

Anakin nodded. After Obi-Wan banished the shadows that predatory circled him, he hollered at him to run. That he couldn’t hold someone back from much longer. The Force felt polluted then and Anakin came to the realization as to what he confronted.

He curled into himself, arms locking around his knees as he carefully released a breath. The Force around him stilled. All too quiet. “Yeah,” he murmured, innocent eyes widening. “He told me to run from the Sith.”

Bant heard enough. Her soft features hardened, battle ready. “We need to report this to Master Yoda,” she decided, gently helping Anakin back to his feet. His limbs were a bit unsteady, but Bant kept a good hold on Anakin’s elbow to balance him out. “He must tell him what you told me.”

“What does it mean?” Anakin asked, a quiver of pure fear stroked his heart. “What’s happening?”

Bant shepherd Anakin down the path toward the doors. “If it is what I think it is,” she said, “then I believe the Sith are trying to invade your mind through Obi-Wan.”

Anakin stopped. His face white like the snowcaps on Alderaan’s mountains. “They’re trying to control my mind? How?”

“Through the use of your Force bond with Obi-Wan,” Bant answered and she pulled at him again to start moving. “From what you are saying, it seems Obi-Wan’s keeping them at bay. But, we need to report it to Master Yoda. He may have a way to shield your mind from them.”

Anakin followed along, but his own well-being fell short from his own concerns for another. “What about Obi-Wan? The black scars?”

“I’m not sure,” Bant truthfully answered. “I never studied the use of the Dark Side. That was more align with Shadows’ work. Not Healers.”

“But you don’t think it’s permanent?”

Trepidation filled between them as Bant silently didn’t answer for a long moment. “I’m no sure, Anakin,” her voice returned. “That is something you should ask Master Yoda when we get there.”

Anakin would. He needed to know that what he saw… that Obi-Wan was going to be all right in the end. Return to Anakin the same man as when he left him on Naboo. Anakin clutched onto that hope as they neared the doors to the Temple.

Bant reached for the pad to grant them access when the door opened seemingly on its own accord. Bant jerked back in surprise, but then relaxed when it was only a Jedi master standing in the door way. “Excuse me, Master,” Bant apologized, bowing deep. She pulled Anakin down with her and Anakin awkwardly bowed too. “You startled me.”

“No apologies necessary,” came the cool response of the Jedi master.

Anakin straightened his spine and surveyed the new Jedi. He was of medium built, stout and hair shaped far more militaristic than the average Jedi. Black and buzzed, he reminded Anakin of someone who prided themselves as being the perfect soldier. The man’s face were schooled with detachment and, yet, Anakin sensed calculation behind those dark eyes. The dark irises moved their gaze from Bant to Anakin, a spark of interest in the latter. It was subtle. No one would notice it. Not even Anakin if it wasn’t for the Force that sent a surge of recognition from the man.

The Jedi Master folded his arms. “Why is a child out of bed this late at night?”

Bant curled her lips into a somber frown, her gaze dropping in discomfiture. “I meant to take him to bed, but we are on our way to meet with Master Yoda.”

“Master Yoda, eh?”

Anakin narrowed his eyes dangerously at the man. There was something off about the Jedi master. Elusive, yet the Force quivered with anticipation. The Jedi Master’s face registered a bland interest in Bant. His fixation, despite not even looking, was at Anakin.

Bant seemed completely unaware. “Yes,” she answered. “We were just on our way.”

“I can take the child,” the Jedi Master said. “You should return to your own duties.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bant assured him. “I’ll need to be there anyway to report my version.”

The Force fluttered. Warning. Something wasn’t right.

Anakin examined the Jedi master closely. The Jedi was different from all the others Anakin’s met in the Temple. Despite his more clean-shaved, military appearance, he even spoke with a different accent. And he kept calling Anakin ‘child’. Since Anakin’s arrived, Jedi either called him by name or ‘youngling’.

He looked passed his outer appearance and studied behind the robe. He look to his waist, spying a belt that hugged him. Anakin trailed it, waiting for the hilt of a lightsaber to appear. It never came. Instead, Anakin saw a blaster where his lightsaber should be.

This man was no Jedi.

Anakin swirled to Bant and screamed. “ _He’s not a Jedi_!”

His startled cry set forth an act that would likely haunt the rest of Anakin’s life. When he shouted the warning to Bant, the fake Jedi abandoned all pretenses. Like a hawk-bat swooping down its prey, the fake Jedi master whipped out his blaster. He took one aim and fired.

Time must have frozen for Anakin. Everything around him slowed. The red blast charged through the air, coming closer and closer to its target. Anakin followed the trajectory. He called out to the Force to stop the blast from impact, but even he was frozen. His arms wouldn’t move and the Force simply abandoned him at the very moment he needed it.

So, to his utter horror, time sped up.

The bolt finished its trajectory and lodged itself right into Bant’s chest. When it hit, Bant looked startled, like she was doused in freezing water. Her lips trembled and a small “oh” gasped from her mouth. Webbed hands on her chest where the bolt entered, she timbered, falling straight back as she landed in a loud thump on the ground.

Anakin gaped. She wasn’t dead. No—merely stunned. Bant would recover. She’ll get up and fight. Anakin waited. _Get up!_

Bant had yet to get up.

No. No. No. No…

Denial surged, sending his pulse into an erratic beat. He waited, his lung burning from withholding his breath as he quietly begged Bant to stop staring up at the stars.

A whirling sound drowned out his quivering pleas and Anakin turned to see that the fake Jedi discarded his robe, revealing his true identity. A bounty hunter! Anakin snarled at the man, moving onto the balls of his feet to lunge at him.

However, the blaster raised to Anakin’s head prevented him.

The bounty hunter smirked in victorious, gleaming at his prize. “Let’s get you home, Skywalker.”


	34. Exchanging Prisoners

Obi-Wan traipsed down the corridor, hugging the wall. His head throbbed. Each pulse racked his head, his vision swimming for a few seconds before clearing. The droids hoovered close, expecting him to collapse any moment. He didn’t. At least, not yet. There was still time from here to Satine’s room to pass out.

Dooku did a number on him. He invaded Obi-Wan’s mind without mercy, drilling into him until he reached the Force bond between him and Anakin. Obi-Wan threw up a quick safety net around Anakin, but Dooku was persistent. It took all of Obi-Wan’s strength to keep Dooku out of Anakin’s mind until the boy finally ran as told.

Dooku was most displeased, but gave credit to the young man. “Qui-Gon’s right,” he said, walking away from Obi-Wan, who had fallen on his knees. “You’re shielding is stronger.”

Then he was dismissed and Obi-Wan picked himself up from the floor, his thoughts resting on Satine. He needed to get her out. It was too dangerous for her to be kept here. The unfortunate part of it all was that there would be no place for her to escape. All the dockings bays at the palace were shut down. Only the city’s spaceports and Dooku’s private spaceport north of the palace were readily available. But, even if they could sneak out of the palace, the chances of leaving from one of those spaceports were dismal. With countless droids guarding the ports, nothing went in or out without being noticed and catalogued. Qui-Gon or Dooku weren’t not willing to let a prize such as the Duchess go free if it was the means to control him.

Obi-Wan shuddered a breath, centering himself within the Force for a sense of balance that was lost to him. An escape must be possible. He only needed to believe. If options did not present themselves before him, then he must make the options presentable.

He fell back against the wall, chin resting on his chest. He cleared his mind, drifting into the Force and listening for its harmony. It swelled around him, bringing back a peace he yearned since he returned to this Sith’s hell.

Answers. Please let there be an answer in his reach.

“Do you need a medic?”

Obi-Wan shot his eyes open. A droid stood at attention in front of him. Of course, peace would elude him in a Sith infested place. He pushed himself off the wall. “No, I’m fine,” he said, giving the cold shoulder to the droids. “I’ll keep walking.”

And he did. Obi-Wan strolled down the corridors, glimpsing at opened doors to record each room in his mind. He hoped to spark an idea, but none provided that essence of hope. He turned the next corner, ready to venture down into the next when the droids grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.

“You are not authorized to continue.”

Obi-Wan flipped a single brow up. “Not authorized? Why not?”

“This is the west wing of the palace,” the droid said, monotone. “You do not have authentication to continue.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows slanted. “The west wing?” he repeated, keenly observing the empty corridor for any inclination of the secrets held in the west wing. “What there?”

“You have no authorization to continue.”

Droids! Their loyalty was programmed. Not earned. Obi-Wan released a stream of tension out, glancing over his shoulder to look down at the long corridor. Obi-Wan had no memories of ever being denied access when he previously lived in the palace. He had the freedom to go anywhere he wished (except the communication room unless he was with either Dooku or Qui-Gon). He tried to recollect if he ever been down to the west wing when he was younger, but all of those memories burned to ashes, scattered in the Force a long time ago.

A door opened in the corridor and two humans, dressed in Serenno military attire, stepped out. They both pocketed cards, speaking in normal tones until they spotted Obi-Wan standing a few yards away. They stopped talking at once, hands clapped behind their backs as they marched forward, toward him.

“Lord Kenobi,” said the human wearing a pair of black boots, smacking the floor with emphasis to garner attention. He bowed deeply before Obi-Wan, a sign of great respect and flattery. “Captain Nev—at your service.”

He gave a salute to Obi-Wan as well, before he nudged to his junior companion. “And this here, my Lord, is young Captain Edaric.”

Edaric, hair burnt black, offered a stiff and formal bow as well. Obi-Wan stared. The captain was hardly any older than himself! Yet, Edaric puffed out his chest where a few rankings glittered his breast. An insignia was patched on the sleeve of his jacket. Obi-Wan did not recognize the symbol.

He gestured to it. “I’m afraid I do not recognize the insignia,” Obi-Wan confessed. “What does it mean?”

“Firebirds, my Lord,” Captain Edaric promptly replied. “Cargo pilots.”

Cargo pilots? In the forbidden west wing? The thought tickled his mind. “What kind of cargo?”

“I ship quadanium steel.”

“Quadanium steel?” Obi-Wan repeated, jaw slacked in surprise. “That’s an expensive metal. What is it for?”

“It’s for—”

Captain Nev stepped forward. “I don’t think Lord Kenobi wants to know the finer details of your work,” he tittered, effectively ending the prying investigation work. “I’m sure Lord Kenobi has places to be.”

A dismissal. A polite dismissal, but the long side-look Captain Nev gave to the younger man promised reprisal. The young captain spoke too much. Obi-Wan raised his brows in defeat, but did not contradict him. He _did_ have places to be. Thanks to young Captain Edaric.

“Thank for your time,” Obi-Wan said with a bow, baffling the two captains with his formal decorum. Yet, despite his humble gesture, Obi-Wan lost balance. His strength had yet to recover and his bow sent him vertigo. He plunged his head into Captain Edaric’s stomach, surprising the captain.

Flesh arms and mechanical arms grabbed some part of his body and hoisted him back up onto his feet. Two pairs of solicitous eyes looked at him. Their expressions quizzical and debatable, as if wondering if to send him to the healers or possibly alert Dooku or Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan prayed they chose neither as they were both horrendous ideas to him.

Obi-Wan straightened himself up again. “I’m fine,” he insisted, pulling the droids off him. “I just finished a… tiring exercise.”

The excuse passed the captains’ gullibility. They smiled, pleased to know that he wasn’t ill or injured.  Obi-Wan thanked them and excused himself, reiterating that he needed to rest. The captains bowed to him and they all went their separate ways, busying themselves with new conversations and tasks.

Like Obi-Wan, who plotted Satine’s escape in his mind as he stealthily slid Captain Edaric’s identification card in the folds of his sleeves.

* * *

Obi-Wan hurried to Satine’s room. He didn’t even order his guards to stay outside the door, but the droids knew better to enter. He closed the door the moment he set foot inside, eyes ransacking the room until he found Satine curled up on the bed.

Taking long strides, he sped to the bed. His heart aflame with hope. “I have good news,” he announced, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We might… what’s wrong?”

Satine hadn’t spoken or moved since he came into the door. In fact, she wasn’t even paying attention to him. Obi-Wan knew she wasn’t asleep. He sensed her mind alive and spinning, and her eyes, daunted, lost in some twisted fog that clouded her vision. Obi-Wan didn’t notice it when he first walked in, but he was taking notice now. He placed a hand on her forehead. No temperature, but her skin shined with sweat.

“Satine?” he said, tone softer as he got off the bed and went on his knees beside it. “Are you all right?”

Obi-Wan reached for her hand. The minute his fingers linked with hers, Satine ripped them out of his grasp and out of reach. “It’s nothing,” she hastily mumbled. “I’m… I’m tired.”

She’s lying. Her avoidance signaled deception and Satine wasn’t a supporter of deceit. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes told him another story.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned again, moving back onto the bed. The intangible emotions tangled into a knotted mass in the Force, its pressure pressed up against his shields.

“Nothing.”

Something. Not nothing. Obi-Wan’s never seen Satine desolated. Her Mandalorian personality too strong to succumb to depression. Even when hope was bleak, Satine’s stubborn nature refused to let up to the point it caused a few heated rows between them. So, seeing Satine curled in on herself, eyes puffing and barely reacting to anything all, it deeply troubled Obi-Wan.

He scooted closer to Satine. “Well, I think I may have something to cheer you up,” he said, a pleased grin spreading his lips as he pulled his sleeves up and carefully revealed the stolen identification card.

Satine’s eyes drifted to the card. Her brows crumbled in confusion. “What is that?”

“I stole it from a pilot,” Obi-Wan whispered in case the Sith inserted recording devices in the room. “It’s your ticket off this planet! You can—”

Satine shoved the card back into Obi-Wan’s hand. “I don’t want it.”

“What?” Obi-Wan gaped at her, flabbergasted by her blunt refusal. He stared, mouth opening and closing in disbelief. “This what you need to get back to Mandalore! To free your people!”

“It’s too late,” Satine moaned. “Death Watch has control.” She flipped her body, changing sides and turning her back to Obi-Wan. “I… I cannot help them.”

She must be running a fever. Ill of some sort. Madness overcoming her. Satine wasn’t herself and Obi-Wan charged ahead in a plea to reach her. “Of course you can! Satine… you’re their rightful leader. They need you!”

“All I did was bring about a civil war and then lost it the moment a new threat showed up,” Satine said, dismally. “They don’t need me! They need someone better than me.

“Because it seems all I do is let others do my fighting,” Satine grumbled, hugging her chest. “Mandalore needs to be saved, but not by me.”

The sudden change in Satine alarmed Obi-Wan. A few hours ago, she assaulted him and was eager to find ways for them to escape and now… this wasn’t the Satine he knew. Her strength withered and she no longer resembled the proud, stubborn and passionate Mandalorian leader, but a fragile, helpless girl who broke under the weight of emotional upheaval.

Obi-Wan touched her shoulder and gently guided her on her back. Satine’s eyes refused to meet his, distantly staring at the wall. Obi-Wan sighed. “That’s not true,” he assured her. “You’re a brave and strong person, who would do anything to spare the life of a single Mandalorian. You led Mandalore into a new age and ruling it without fault for nearly a decade—all by yourself for that matter.

“What I’m trying to say,” Obi-Wan went on as he slowly drew Satine’s attention away from the wall to him. “Is that you are a far greater leader than Mandalore deserves. And the people know. They adore you and have great faith in you. So much that they know you would never abandon them.”

Tears spilled in the corners of Satine’s eyes. Obi-Wan, with the use of the Force, floated the tissues to his hand and passed one to Satine. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said. “I only speak the truth—”

The water in Satine’s eyes evaporated, replaced with an explosion of fury. She snatched the box of tissues and threw them across the room. “I don’t care for the truth!” she hissed, shoving Obi-Wan hard enough to knock him off the bed. Only the use of the Force saved him from falling on his face. “Argh! You sound just like him!”

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow high up his forehead. “I sound like who?”

Satine scowled at Obi-Wan. “Don’t you already know?”

The confusion only lasted for a second. Something foreign made its presence known, a dilution within the normally warm glow of the Force. Obi-Wan got his first sense of the new presence. A lingering odor that wafted in one particular area. A chair in fact, seated far away from the bed. The presence lingered, leaving a stain in the Force where it once coveted.

Obi-Wan barely even noticed that his hands were clenching into fists. “Qui-Gon,” he tersely muttered. “He was here? Sitting at the chair.” He snapped his head back to Satine. “What did he say to you?”

“The truth and he’s not wrong,” Satine replied like a blast of cold air striking him across the face. “He’s right! So, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”

“Satine—”

“I made my peace,” she said wastefully, lethargy overtaking her last reserve of strength. Her head sunk into the pillow as a small whisper of breath escaped. “If you cannot, then please leave. I need solitude.”

Satine turned away from him again, leaving Obi-Wan exposed to an unimaginable contortion of pain, anger, confusion and sorrow. In all of his years, he would have thought his heart wouldn’t be so tender. Expectant of disappointment and heartache a daily dose for him, it should have not affected him. Yet, he was woefully wrong and he left Satine’s room in a fury that needed release. And he knew exactly to release it upon.

* * *

Qui-Gon meditated in the center of his chamber.

The Force was still. Calm. A tranquility that somewhat eluded Qui-Gon for years. Possibly because of his own disturbance at his losses. His own pestered mind and bleeding heart quaked the Force in his wake until his heart stitched together and his buzzed thoughts slowed in understanding and rest. Everything was coming together and the promise he swore was slowly being fulfilled.

For years, Qui-Gon worried he wouldn’t be able to fulfill the promise he swore upon the person’s death. It ghosted his dreams at sleep and eyes in wakefulness. He heard the voice over and over again.  

_Don’t let him suffer our fate_. _Promise me! Promise—he won’t suffer like us_. _Please_ … _promise me, Qui-Gon_.

Qui-Gon dropped his chin to his chest. Every time those words were repeated back to him, his heart clenched and he swore he was dying all over again. Shadows played on him, blurred lines of light and dark, grey amassing in waves within the Force. It kept darkening as the years rolled, but since Obi-Wan’s return it’s gotten lighter and his soul less heavy than before.

His old padawan always made things lighter. When Xanatos broke his spirit and questioned his ability to inspire others, Obi-Wan pieced him back together, returned him to that sense of purpose and rekindled his spirit again. Obi-Wan saved him from the brink of being lost forever.

And when he left, Qui-Gon spiraled back to that same pit of loneliness and doubt. He questioned what he did wrong and how to change it. Long meditations resulted in clarity. The answers filtered in his dreams and he soon became desperate to obtain his wayward padawans. When he found Obi-Wan, the Living Force brightened. He let the Force wash over him, drenching him in warmth and relief all at once.

It was good to have him home even if their relationship was rocky, a source of fear and distrust. In time, Obi-Wan would come around and realize everything Qui-Gon did was for his betterment. He only hoped it didn’t take too long for the boy—no, _young man_ —to realize it.

As he reached deeper into the Force through his meditation, a disturbance sliced into him and interrupted his tranquility. A great storm sped through the Force, lightening striking that Qui-Gon withdrew from his meditation and opened his eyes in time to see his bedchamber doors swish open.

“ _You kriffing, lying chizk_!”

Obi-Wan marched, his footfalls a thunderous clap as he surged at Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord rose to meet the hot-headed man when Obi-Wan snatched his tunics in his fists, yanking Qui-Gon to his feet.

Qui-Gon was surprised. Not from the amount of anger that emitted from Obi-Wan’s tongue lashing, but the hate that rooted into his soul. A burning passion of hatred flickered in those soft, blue eyes—almost electrifying! It was an alarming look to his young charge and Qui-Gon detested the appearance.

His tunics still gripped in Obi-Wan’s hand, Qui-Gon gently pried himself free with a simple Force shove. Obi-Wan charged again, but Qui-Gon held him off, sending tendrils of the Force to rope around his body and kept him in stasis. Obi-Wan wiggled, doing his best to free himself from the invisible ropes, but it was impossible.

Qui-Gon took a breath to recollect his thoughts. “Now—why don’t we try this again,” he said, adjusting his clothes to fit him properly. “Hello, Obi-Wan. It’s nice to see you again. What’s wrong?” Qui-Gon peered over Obi-Wan’s head, looking to the door. “And… where are your guards?”

The guards in charge of protecting Obi-Wan had yet to enter through the doors. Either he dismantled the guards with the Force or he outrun them. In whatever case, Qui-Gon realized he needed to replace them with more upgraded droids.

Obi-Wan’s attempts weakened, arms surrendering to his sides as he accepted the impossibility of escape. Instead, he settled on glowering at Qui-Gon. “You _threatened_ Satine!”

Threatened? Qui-Gon’s eyebrows fell into sharp slants as he mulled over his memories of the previous hours. “I do not recall any threats made to the Duchess,” he said, scratching his chin. “She must have been mistaken.”

“I know you,” Obi-Wan bitterly chaffed, “You have a way of making a simple observation a meaningful threat. Now—” Obi-Wan’s eyes shimmered in irritation. “What did you say to her?”

A screech of metal interrupted them as Obi-Wan guards finally arrived on the scene. Qui-Gon flicked his hand to shoo the guards away, wanting privacy for him and Obi-Wan. The guards bowed out, shutting the door as they fixed themselves outside. With the door shut and a promise to not be disturbed, Qui-Gon tilted his head back to meet the challenge.

“I told her the truth,” he said, simple and honest. “What she concluded afterwards is of her own imagination. Not mine.”

“ _What truth_?”

“The truth of what would happen if she escaped to Mandalore,” Qui-Gon answered, folding his arms. “To be honest, I thought it would be _you_ who would have told her, but it was my surprise when she didn’t have any idea what I was talking about.”

“You had no right to tell her that!”

“And you had no right to deny her,” Qui-Gon countered. “The Duchess is a mature adult. She’s has a right to know what would happen to her if she decided to leave.”

Obi-Wan’s face grew long. Blue eyes shifted, a panoply of grief and regret battling. Qui-Gon grew curious. “Why the sudden anger over her knowing as well?” Qui-Gon questioned, fingers cupping his chin as he observed Obi-Wan’s avoidance to either answer or even look at Qui-Gon.

And then it clicked. “Ah… yes, of course. I see it now,” Qui-Gon smiled thinly as he drew closer to Obi-Wan. “You’re angry because she doesn’t _want_ to leave.”

A flash of righteous anger struck across Obi-Wan’s face. His nose flared and his cheeks burned for a brief moment before he extinguished the anger. But it was too late. Qui-Gon’s suspicions were confirmed.

“It seems the Duchess understands the predicament far better than you do,” Qui-Gon noted, looking up into those weary eyes of his padawan, who seemed to have lived years beyond his actual age. “I will tell you the same thing I told her. This does not have to be a bad thing.”

Obi-Wan briefly flickered back to Qui-Gon, squinting dubiously at him. “Not a bad thing?” he testily repeated.

“This isn’t the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan. You can indulge and have passion,” Qui-Gon said as he slowly rewound the tendrils roped around Obi-Wan. “You cannot tell me you have never imagined yourself and the Duchess together?”

Another shift in the young man’s eyes. Qui-Gon’s lips twitched to a wry smile. Of course his padawan thought about living on Mandalore as Satine’s consort. Qui-Gon never doubted it. His old padawan was an emotional man and every emotional man had needs and desires.

The last tendril loosened on Obi-Wan, but the young man didn’t do anything. He slumped where he stood, the Force cracking along his path. A broken man. Defeated.

Qui-Gon rested a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The muscles underneath tensed, anticipation heightening. Almost like Obi-Wan was ready to fight if needed. There was no need. Qui-Gon didn’t plan to hurt him. Only erase his conflictions brewing in his weeping soul. “It’s okay Obi-Wan,” he said in soothing tones to calm him. “The Duchess had similar thoughts, you know.”

Obi-Wan’s chin lifted, crystal blue pooling with hope and truth as a silent plea rung between their shared Force bond. Qui-Gon was pleased that Obi-Wan shared (intentionally or unintentionally) his feelings through their bond. The bond they shared as Master-Apprentice was left in shreds when Obi-Wan ran away. Not broken completely. Qui-Gon held on by a thread and each day since Obi-Wan’s return to Serenno, the bond stitched together again. It was still weak, barely alive, but growing stronger.

It gave Qui-Gon the confidence needed to slink his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders in a half-embrace. “Like I said, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he reiterated his statement. “You and Satine can finally be together without any obligations to prevent you from doing so.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, uncomfortable. He shrugged Qui-Gon’s arm off him and retreated to a safer distance. “You’re right,” Obi-Wan solemnly agreed. “The Jedi are no longer holding me back.”

Qui-Gon felt the tide rising in the Force. There was a shift in the Force. And in Obi-Wan’s face as a twinkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes sparked a rebellion. 

It sought attention and it certainly had Qui-Gon’s attention now.

Obi-Wan planted his feet firmly, rooted and immobile as his mouth drew up a curl. There was no laughter behind that smile. Only pure rebuttal. “This time it’s you,” he pointed. “You’re the reason Satine and I can never be together.”

Qui-Gon’s furrowed his eyebrows in scornful confusion. “Did you not hear a word I said to you?”

“I did, but you don’t get it,” Obi-Wan’s eyes fell suddenly sharp, “and you probably never will.”

Qui-Gon was not prepared for the coldness in Obi-Wan’s voice. It stifled their Force bond, a chill frosting the lumbar of his spine. The cold nipped his heart, hurting him far beyond what he expected. Perhaps because it resulted old memories to flare up. Recollections of moments and feelings that fluttered through him like bats flying out of a cave.

Normally, such remarks hardly bothered Qui-Gon. He always shrugged it off, but these dagger of words was enough to penetrate him deep enough to bleed. And he reacted with an unstable anger fueling his heart. “You are quite mistaken, padawan,” he said, pointedly in return. “I understand far more than either you or the Duchess.”

“I doubt it,” Obi-Wan volleyed, disbelief flurrying those cold eyes. “Because if you did, then you wouldn’t have either of us here.”

With that, Obi-Wan walked away. Finished with Qui-Gon and done listening.

Qui-Gon wanted to respond. His mind screamed at him to say something, but the cold blast Obi-Wan emitted through their Force bond chilled Qui-Gon’s tongue. All he could do was stare at Obi-Wan’s back as the young man retreated from his chamber.

He couldn’t let Obi-Wan leave like that. Why did Obi-Wan have to blow everything out of proportions? This was not how Qui-Gon wanted the conversation to turn to. Obi-Wan was meant to be grateful and happy. Not _this_!

The soft pitter patter of slippers slipping away from him revived Qui-Gon to salvage his authority and retake command.

“Dinner will be ready shortly,” Qui-Gon called to Obi-Wan’s back.

The young man paused. He didn’t give Qui-Gon the courtesy of engaging face-to-face, but Qui-Gon was quite aware Obi-Wan was listening.

“I expect you and the Duchess to be in attendance.”

Only then did Obi-Wan turn around fully to look back at Qui-Gon. It wasn’t to argue or to attack him. Rather, in a far more disconcerting manner, Obi-Wan bowed deeply in a mockery of respect to him. As he rose up, Obi-Wan uttered. “As you wish, my Lord.”

And then he was gone. The droids taking him out of Qui-Gon’s chambers to follow through with their duty to protect him and ensure he didn’t fall out of line.

Standing alone once again, Qui-Gon lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “He takes after you,” he muttered to no one but the Force. “Far more than me.”

* * *

The droids never strayed from his elbows. They stayed close and alert, not wishing for another repeated session of them chasing after their charge. That was fine by Obi-Wan. He needed to reserve his strength. He busily plotted, drawing up maps in his head and recalculating the stretches of time needed to go from one point to the next.

By the time he arrived back to Satine’s room, he had a good quarter of the plan done and ready for execution. The rest needed to improvisation.

Satine was still on the bed. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving red lines of misery along her pale skin. She glanced his way when the door opened, but said nothing. She still continued to be silent as Obi-Wan treaded up to the bed, emotionally exhausted, but he still managed to give her a tender smile.

“I spoke to Qui-Gon.”

Satine didn’t stir. Only a whisper came out. “Oh.”

“I know what he said,” Obi-Wan continued, “about you leaving for Mandalore.”

“I figured.”

“And I know about the other thing too.”

Now he got a reaction. Satine’s face crumbled in complete bafflement as to what other subject Obi-Wan mentioned.

Obi-Wan pulled up a chair and sat down. “I know that you imagined what your life would be like if you weren’t a ruler to a planet,” he clarified her confusion. “As I am sure you are aware that I too wondered what my life would have been if I wasn’t a Jedi.”

They both stared at one another, deeply looking into their eyes and falling straight through them. Crashing and flailing in their attempt to stay afloat in the madness that swarmed. And yet, even then they couldn’t help but want to sink in its depths and succumb it all.

Obi-Wan drew breath first. “We both know it won’t end well,” he said. “We would end up hating each other. I do not wish to hate you, Satine.”

“Nor I you,” Satine agreed, both reaching to the conclusion that the path they were on would only splinter and rip wounds on their hearts. “It seems we have little choice in the matter.”

“There is always hope.”

Satine looked doubtful. “You stole an identification card,” she said. “Once used, I’m certain they’ll find us quick enough.”

“Not if we have a generous head start.”

Satine spied him. “You already have a plan.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “Some of it, at least. We may need to improvise along the way.”

The Duchess shook her head. “It’s too risky, Obi-Wan. The Sith are always watching. They’ll know if we try to escape. Then they’ll hurt you and I can’t… I can’t be the reason you suffer.” She looked down, somber as her forehead wrinkled in lines of remorse.

Qui-Gon gently hushed her. “And I’ll suffer a far greater pain knowing you are locked away here because of me,” he added. “It’s worth the risk. And if we get caught, I’ll make sure to spare you from their wrath.”

Satine still didn’t looked impressed by the idea. “No, it’s still too dangerous. They’ll know! They will!” she fretted, interrupting Obi-Wan’s reply. “Let’s forget about it. At least for tonight. I can’t think. I need rest.”

Of course. Stress tended to make any one lose their minds. “Perhaps after dinner,” Obi-Wan suggested. “I actually stopped by to escort you to the dining hall.”

Satine raised a brow. “I’ll have my dinner here, thank you.”

“I would too,” Obi-Wan agreed. He loathed the idea of eating domestically in the presence of the galaxy’s most savaged creatures, “but we don’t have an option. They requested for both our presences. Don’t worry—I’ll keep you away from harm.”

Satine groaned, the clogs of her minds clicking away as he tried to think of another excuse to get out of the dinner. Obi-Wan watched each idea spring to life only to fall dead shortly after. Running out of ideas, she huffed and sat up on the bed.

“Fine,” she said, flattening any wrinkles she saw on her new gown. “I’ll go, but I will not engage in any banter to such vile beings.”

“Trust me,” Obi-Wan said, taking her arm and leading her to the door. “There won’t be any bantering. Just subtle threats and mockery.”

Satine side-glanced at him. “I see you attended a few of these dinners already,” she remarked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, hitting the pad and the door hissed open. “I know the routine enough to expect what’s to come. Last time, Dooku choked me.”

“ _He what_?” Satine gasped.

Obi-Wan nodded as they left Satine’s room, followed by a small squadron of four droids. “For a minute I thought he was going to snap my neck, but I managed to stab him in his hand.”

Satine’s eyes doubled in size. “You can’t be serious?” When Obi-Wan didn’t contradict her, Satine looked ahead with grave apprehension. “Are all your dinners that… aggressive?”

“Only when you challenge them.”

They walked down the corridor in silence. Obi-Wan sensed the growing apprehension within Satine. She was worried, flashes of her wild imagination filtered into the Force, and Obi-Wan was almost humored by how she pictured dinner. She viewed it as a massacre, but Obi-Wan knew it wouldn’t get _that_ far. Blood would most likely be spilled, but no one would be dead. And if so, it would be him.

Traveling through turbolift and turning down a few more corridors, Obi-Wan finally recognized the corridor. They arrived. “Okay, here we are.”

Satine looked around, stumped. “Um… are you sure?”

They were standing at a turnoff of to another corridor. There was no door nearby and no aroma of cooked food. In fact, the corridor looked absolutely bare. Then again, it had no need for decorations. After all, it was only the link to the west wing of the palace.

Obi-Wan’s lips went wide. “I’m positive.”

As the droids shuffled up and prepared to nudge him to move, Obi-Wan spun on his heels. He whipped out his hand, calling on the Force to toss aside the droid in front of him. The droid crashed into the wall, its words cracking until it went dead silent. The discarded droid’s blaster shot to Obi-Wan’s hand, the abrasive weapon clutched in a firm grip. The other droids hurried to repeal Obi-Wan’s attack, but their dim-wittiness kept them slow. Obi-Wan fired three blasts and each one hit its mark.

The droids laid scattered. The blaster’s stuns left no evidence of foul play except the firing of the wires. Satine had jumped out of harm’s way, crowding up against the wall as Obi-Wan finished off their squadron.

Obi-Wan scooped up another blaster and passed it to Satine. “Take this,” he ordered, kicking his slippers off his feet. They would only slow him down. When Satine had not accepted the weapon, he reiterated to her. “It’s only set for stun, so don’t hesitate to fire.”

Satine’s fingers shakily took the blaster. “I—I don’t believe this!” she blurted, her temper returning. “There was no dinner planned!”

Obi-Wan looked back to her. “On the contrary, Your Highness, there was,” he replied with a teasing smikr. “Only we are not attending.”

Satine opened her mouth to reply, but Obi-Wan took that moment to grab her hand and run. They hurried down the corridor, jumping into a turbolift. To go onto any of the limited secured floors, it required a keycard.

Obi-Wan pulled out Captain Edaric’s card. “Force let this work,” he prayed as he swiped the card.

The mechanical whistle alarmed Obi-Wan and Satine, but the gentle click of acceptance sent them spiraling back down to a calming relief. Obi-Wan hit the main level. “Well, plan is working so far.”

Satine glared. “Luck I suppose,” she said. “What’s the next step in your brilliant plan?”

“Oh that?” he muttered as he brushed his fingers through his hair. “That we may need to improvise.”

Satine’s shock whiplashed like ice on a raging river. “You don’t know what to do next?”

“I’m up for suggestions,” Obi-Wan replied in kind.

The turbolift whistled its arrival and once the doors opened, Obi-Wan snatched Satine’s hand again. The Duchess groaned. “Not this again,” she managed to mumble before Obi-Wan took off running, dragging her along with him in his wake.

They traveled with the shadows, hiding in the dark as they maneuvered their way to the loading dock Obi-Wan sought. A handful of cargo ships took shelter in the docking bay as hordes of soldiers and laborers went in and out, rolling out crates from the ramps.

Careful not to be seen, Obi-Wan and Satine stealthily slinked into the docking bay, hiding behind a small mountain of crates that have been stocked off to the side. Satine immediately discarded her weapon, placing it aside with outrage disgust. Obi-Wan kept his tucked into his belt. He expected they won’t be able to hide behind the crates forever before someone noticed them.

Hidden behind the stacks, Obi-Wan peeked a glimpse of the activities happening around the docking bay. There was a lot of movement, which was promising as they could be lost amongst the crowd. The only downside was that there were far too many witnesses and it only took one to stop and question them. And that wouldn’t be too hard seeing as they were dressed in finer material than the soldiers and definitely the laborers.

Obi-Wan studied their pattern. Each soldier and laborer were assigned to a cargo ship. Each of them stationed with a certain task such as inventory checking, loading and unloading, and directing laborers and pilots. Managers were all bustling and directing everyone what to do with the crates that were coming onto the floor. Long wooden crates streamlined from the ramp to the designated dump spot as others took over to check the goods. Obi-Wan had an inkling on what each crate contained. And, based off the number of crates, whatever they were building was to be massive. 

Satine lifted her head, peering out beside Obi-Wan. “What are in those crates?”

“My guess… quadanium steel,” Obi-Wan whispered his answer, spying a young soldier roaming closer to their hide away.

“Quadanium steel?” Satine said, amazed as she eyed all the crates now storing up on the docks. “That’s expensive steel. What are they planning to do with all it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Though I am certain it’s not for the good of the galaxy.”

Obi-Wan yanked Satine down with him just as the lone soldier turned in their direction. He placed a finger to his lip to signal Satine to be quiet and still. In an unusual turn of events, Satine obeyed. She huddled close to Obi-Wan as she barely even breathed. He kept a protective arm around her, pulling her close to him. They waited, the apprehension of getting caught making their muscles tensed. Obi-Wan held his breath too, listening with the Force.

The Force stilled, too placid for any sense of comfort. The eerie silence befallen the Force deeply offended Obi-Wan. The Force was never quiet with him. Then again, Anakin was always with him. The Force never left its favorite child alone.

It took a long moment of heightened suspense before a brush of gentle warmth greeted Obi-Wan, letting him know it was safe again. Obi-Wan peeked over the crate. The soldier had wandered off, but not too far. He was no longer interested in the crates behind him; thus, sparing Obi-Wan and Satine.

“Tell me there is far more to this plan besides hiding behind crates,” Satine haughtily muttered.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply to restrain the building temper that flared in him. Somehow, Satine’s words always flamed his aggravation to the next level. He pressed his mouth into a straight line. “Actually, Duchess, the plan is just getting started,” he fended as he got into action. “Wait here.”

He slinked away from Satine, crouched as he stalked his prey. The soldier remain aloof of the danger nearing him. His footfalls were silent as he glided across the floor. Seconds. He only had seconds to get this right. If he didn’t, well, the next plan was to run.

Close enough, Obi-Wan thought and he sprung. He clamped his hand over the soldier’s mouth. The soldier squealed and flailed his arms to throw Obi-Wan off him. But, Obi-Wan was quick. He shoved a Force suggestion into his mind the second he caught him. The man was no match. His eyes battered closed before he slumped unconsciously in Obi-Wan’s arms.

No one noticed. All were too focused on the delivery to realize one of their own was being dragged off behind the crates.

Satine’s brow fell in a disdainful swoop. “Oh? I see you added another member to our secret clubhouse.”

“Humorous as ever Duchess,” Obi-Wan replied, dryly, “but no—we are doing a costume change.”

“You’re going to play soldier? Typical.”

Obi-Wan paused. “Actually, Your Highness,” he hesitated, knowing the kind of reaction he was certain to receive would not be warmly accepted, “the costume is for you.”

Satine gaped at Obi-Wan as if he was joking. “You’re not serious!” she chuckled to hide her discomfort. “You are joking?”

“I’m not.”

Satine’s smile warped into a mortified gasp. “I will not!” she protested, staring at the vulgar uniform in utter distaste. “I’m not going to dress up as a soldier.”

“Dressing up as a soldier doesn’t automatically make you a soldier,” Obi-Wan argued, his words surged with urgency. Time was dwindling and it won’t take long for Qui-Gon or Dooku to find them. “Satine, I need you to trust me one last time. Can you do that?”

“I always trust you!”

If only she expressed that more often, Obi-Wan reflected. He let his shoulders sagged. “Then change clothes,” he pleaded, undressing the soldier. “You’ll blend better.”

Obi-Wan removed the double-breasted tunic and passed it to Satine. The Duchess picked at the tunic, disgusted. Her lips soured more when Obi-Wan passed along the undershirt, belt, trouser and black boots.

“Hurry and change,” Obi-Wan rushed, waiting on Satine to undo her dress and switch into the soldier. “What is it?”

Satine had yet to start undressing. Her eyes flitted from the uniform to Obi-Wan, shifting uncomfortably as she reexamined the clothes. “I need you to turn around,” she said, timid around him like they were teenagers again.

Obi-Wan obliged, turning his back to give her privacy. “Just hurry. I sense Qui-Gon’s becoming aware of our deceit.”

He heard the clothes ruffling behind him and Obi-Wan kept alert as to not blow their cover. He heard a final zip and clip when Satine announced she was finished. Obi-Wan checked over her. The uniform was a bit baggy even with the tunic tucked and the belt fastened all the way. The boots were a few sizes too large as her legs wobbled due to her feet sliding.

“I look hideous, don’t I?” Satine said, rolling back the sleeves from her wrist a bit. “They’re not going to believe I’m one of them.”

“Of course they will,” Obi-Wan insisted, helping her adjust the other sleeve. He dusted off the man’s hat and helped stuff Satine’s blonde hair into it. “They’re not going to challenge your credentials because of your poor outfit ensemble. Just don’t draw attention to yourself. Act natural and you’ll be great.”

Satine’s eyes fell into slits. “I don’t know how a soldier acts!”

“Act confident and be alert,” Obi-Wan advised. “That’s about it.”

“And start shooting when I deem so?”

Obi-Wan flipped a brow. “Don’t go all trigger-finger now, Duchess,” he playfully joked. “Save it when you really need it.”

That earned Obi-Wan a hard jab to the ribs. “It’s a good thing one of us is far more civilized here,” Satine pointed out. “Now that I have followed your silly plan this far, what’s the next step?”

Obi-Wan nudged his head to the closest cargo ship. “You’re going to board that ship.”

“You mean ‘we’.”

No. He did not. He hoped the topic wouldn’t be broached until _after_ Satine got onto the cargo ship and was blasting out into space. Yet, in a very Satine fashion, she brought it up now. Right when he felt Qui-Gon’s bristle through the Force. They were down to a few minutes before droids marched into the docking bay.

“No, Satine,” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and slow. “I do not mean ‘we’. Only you.”

Satine became alarmed. “No—don’t! You must come with me.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan palliated, looking back into those deep wells of sorrow. “I need to be the distraction. Keep them away from you.”

“I cannot abandon you here!”

“You must,” Obi-Wan insisted again. Why must she be so stubborn? Was she blindly unaware that all of these sacrifices was to keep her safe and away from danger? Obi-Wan would die a happy man if he knew she was out of Qui-Gon’s and Dooku’s grasp.

Seeing the way her eyes got smaller, Obi-Wan picked up her hands. Still soft and elegant like the royalty she was. A gentle soul in a foul place ready to tear into her heart. He cradled those hands in his own. “Remember who we are Satine. You a Duchess and I… well, a rogue,” he said. “We have our duties. I will fulfill my duty to protect you just like I did on Mandalore.

“And you will free your people from its violent past,” Obi-Wan assured her, nearly begging her to do so in his attempt to convince her to leave. “Like last time.”

Satine sagged with disappointment. “Not like last time,” she quieted. “I won’t have you. I’ll be alone.”

“You are not alone, Satine,” Obi-Wan swore as he brought up her hands, kissing the tips of her fingers. “I promise.”

The Duchess spared one more glance to Obi-Wan, both rafting on the raw confusion and grief that overflowed the space between them. Turbulent in the sickening madness. Both begging the other to stay or go. A cruel world to which both options separated them, but the question remained which would hurt more. To Obi-Wan, staying was the far worse fate.

Satine let her fingers slip from Obi-Wan’s calloused hands. The restraint in her eyes gave her final decision. “What am I to do next?”

Obi-Wan’s body sank with relief. He huddled next to Satine. “You want to board that ship over there,” Obi-Wan pointed to a massive cargo carrier that was a few yards away from their hideaway. “Once you are on board, stay hidden until they land. Then, when it is your best chance, make a run for it.”

“To where though?” Satine inquired. “I cannot contact my allies in Mandalore. If I have any left that is.”

“Go to Naboo.”

“Padmé?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Queen Amidala will assist you and her small security force will protect you.”

“Shouldn’t I go to Coruscant? Seek out Master Yoda? Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, that’s where they’ll expect you to go. Their allies there will be warned ahead and you won’t get far enough to the Temple to make a report,” he said. “It’s safer to go to Naboo.”

Satine agreed with a single nod. “I’ll try to make contact with Padmé as soon as I can,” she promised to Obi-Wan. “I think I better get going. Looks like they unloaded the last crate.”

The docking bay became less active in the past few minutes. The laborers strolled the last batch of wooden crates to the deposit, unloading it as others began prying the lids off to check the materials inside the crates. Everyone was distracted. Time to go.

Obi-Wan put a hand on Satine’s shoulder. “Remember—try to blend in. Don’t bring attention to yourself. If anyone asks, say you are doing final checking points on each cargo ship per the instruction so of Captain Nev.”

“Who’s Captain Nev?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “A captain,” he said, forgetting the man’s purpose in the military hierarchy. “Once inside, find a good hiding place until you can escape. And don’t—”

“I can take care of myself,” Satine interrupted as she did a last minute adjustment with her belt. “I handled an entire planet, Kenobi. I think I can do this one task. Don’t start worrying yet.”

“I’m always worried when it involves you.”

The words slipped out before he could contain them. Awkward silence lulled between, both unsure what to say next after that. But Obi-Wan shook it off, gathering up his wits. “Be careful,” he said. “And maybe, one day, we’ll see each other in better circumstances.”

A subtle flare of hope resigned in the way she stared at him. “I’ll keep you to that promise, Ben.”

The charging attraction between them electrified. Breaths quickened and the flame in their hearts flickering alive again. Obi-Wan looked on at Satine with affection and love and respect. He did not wish to see her go, but if she stayed their love will darken and turn ill before them. Their flame would rampage and turn their hearts to ash. Their love dead to one another.

With great difficulty, Obi-Wan picked up Satine’s blaster and passed it to her. “It’s time. You need to go. Now!”

Satine didn’t need telling twice. She locked her blaster onto her belt and jumped out of the hiding place. Gulping once, she strolled toward the cargo ship. Hands clamped behind her back, and shoulders straight and rigid, she marched like a soldier down through the busy hanger. Obi-Wan monitored Satine’s movements, using the Force to check for incoming dangers.

Already he sensed Qui-Gon growing presence. The Sith frustration was boiling up to aggravation. A jab against his shields warned Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon’s patience thinned and he wanted the hiding game ended now. Obi-Wan reinforced his shields and focused on Satine. She trailed up, giving quicks, approving nods to others as they walked passed. None of them noticed her ill-fitted outfit or how her legs kept tripping over the over-sized boots.

She reached the end of the ramp, successfully maneuvering her way to her escape pod. As she lingered at the end, Obi-Wan sensed the hesitation within her.

_Go!_ Obi-Wan mentally implored. _Don’t turn around. Keeping walking_.

But she was not Force sensitive and did not hear his distress call through the Force. She turned her head, eyes meeting his across the vast space between them. She held his eyes, an empyrean shine that drew him to reconsider to not abandon her. The Force burned in his heart, a telling of the fates they will be bestowed. It was not one of kindness, but of utter heartbreak.

Obi-Wan’s heart twisted, breaking into barbed fragments as he understood what the Force told him. No matter the scenario, he and Satine would never be able to be together. The Force was a cruel mistress. It could never share its love for another. It asked for devotion, but never promised anything in return. Yes, a cruel mistress indeed.

Obi-Wan stared solemnly back at Satine. _Goodbye_.

Satine got the message. She dropped her chin in a small curtsey. Her face paled considerably like her life was depleting from her body. Their pain pooled their souls as they turned away from one another once again.

_Farewell_ , Satine mouthed in return. She turned away, striding up the ramp and disappearing into the cargo bay without anyone noticing her appearance.

Obi-Wan waited, checking through the Force to sense Satine. Her heartbreak shattered her, but otherwise, she felt secured. Safer than she felt when locked in that glided bedroom.

Another strike against Obi-Wan’s mental shields drew his attention away from Satine. He needed to move again. He could not be found in the docking bay. Obi-Wan slunk away, stepping over the unconscious, half-naked soldier. He slipped through the doors again, his feet light that barely a whisper of a pat could be heard. He checked his confiscated blaster. It was fully charged and ready to fire.

Pinned against the walls, Obi-Wan tip-toed down the corridor, relying on memory and the Force to guide him to his next destination. If he could keep Qui-Gon from immediately locating him, he may discover the reason behind the need of the quadanium steel.

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool though. He predicted his capture would occur sooner rather than later, especially since Qui-Gon’s aggravation spiked to ire. Qui-Gon was on patrol, swiftly cutting through the sections in his desperate search to find him. Obi-Wan strangled for a breath. He imagine his capture would not end on a good note. May as well make it worth the time then.

Obi-Wan brushed up against the wall, peaking behind the corner. Barren as he hoped. Obi-Wan slid into the new corridor, scurrying down another path on this labyrinth area of the palace. Not a single sound echoed the hallway except the steady breathing Obi-Wan released. The eerie quietness conveyed a promising suspense that Obi-Wan had a feeling would end poorly for him. Then again, nothing with a Sith ended on a happy note.

As he crossed the halfway point, his anticipation of action came to an end. The chime of a turbolift rang out a warning to Obi-Wan. He only got time to freeze where he walked. Fear struck his legs paralyzed as he shot his eyes to the opening tuborlift doors at the far end of the corridor.

The doors parted, revealing a company of droids and a lone human figure, front and center.

Qui-Gon’s eyes augmented as the yellow infusion amplified in his normally grey eyes. “Obi-Wan!”

That single shout of his name jolted Obi-Wan out of his stupor.

In one swift movement, he brought up his blaster and fired at Qui-Gon. He didn’t stay to watch where the blast hit. He didn’t even know if it hit his target. He fired and whirled around, feet slapping the floor as he bolted away from the corridor. His mind screamed at him to run. Run! Run! Faster!

He got his answer soon enough. Behind him, he heard Qui-Gon throwing out commands and metal clanks of droids giving chase. Obi-Wan dared not to look behind him. He whipped around corners, no longer checking to see if droids or other obstacles would prevent him from escape.

His lungs burned and his heart was in his throat as he sprinted down the corridors. Every strained of muscled begged his mind to stop the madness of running. Blood pumped furiously to keep the aching muscles working, but they protested the sudden abundance Obi-Wan demanded.

But he ignored them, pushing away the resistance and charged full speed ahead. His thoughts too blazed with a desperate need to run away from Qui-Gon. He knew it was inevitable that he was destined to be caught. It was part of the plan after all. He was merely a distraction so that Satine could escape her fate.

Still, it didn’t mean that Obi-Wan would surrender to his own fate that easily. Seeing Qui-Gon got him rejuvenated. He did not want to go back with his old Master. He did not want to bow to his demands or be roped into another one of his manipulative lies. He wanted out.

Obi-Wan took another corridor, gambling that it would lead him to a turbolift that he could escape to another level. To his grave misfortune, it was not a turbolift that awaited him. He was graced to a company of armed droids.

He skidded to a halt. Fighting through them was not optional. There was no way he would win a fight against them. Even armed, he still had no chance against them.

Obi-Wan backed up, hoping to retreat, but more droids closed in behind him. All of them carrying a weapon, aimed directly at him.

Obi-wan sagged in defeat. His fingers instinctively curled around his blaster, almost knowing it was going to lose it in a few short seconds. He may have lost his flight to freedom, but at least he still won overall. And that was a good enough victory for him.

The droids in front of him confronted him. “Don’t move, Lord Kenobi,” one said.

“And drop your weapon,” another droid commanded.

Obi-Wan wrangled his grip from the blaster and it dropped with a heavy thud that echoed around them. He slowly lifted his arms, his head tilted in humility. “I surrender”

The droids didn’t lower their blasters, which was disturbing. He surrendered. Were they not going to escort him back to the main levels or at least to Qui-Gon?

He got his answer soon enough by a direct command. “Fire,” a droid commandeered issued.

Obi-Wan’s eyes rounded, unexpected. “No—wait!”

That was all he got before he was struck right in the chest. The bolt hit right in the center of his ribcage, electrifying his nerves to the point of a system shutdown. His breath hitched as his body and mind betrayed him. He fell, but for how long he didn’t know.

The flash came and killed the lights. All he knew was that he was still breathing.

* * *

Dooku waited.

He was the only one waiting in his family’s private spaceport. His guards were stationed outside, blocking any undesirables from entering. The hanger itself was empty. None of the normal workers were on site. Dooku had sent them all away as the matter was extremely private and valuable. He could not have others gossiping about the arriving cargo. 

He took another glance at the time. The cargo should arrive soon and still no sign of Qui-Gon. His former padawan busied himself over Kenobi's escape attempt. The droids shot him down. What more did Qui-Gon need to do? The young man was out of commission, unable to do anything other than lay where he was. Keep him locked away and deal with him later.

Then again, Qui-Gon was never fully in the right mind when Kenobi was involved. Qui-Gon’s attachment made it impossible for him to think straight concerning the young man. He dotted on him, spoiling him far too much for Dooku’s taste. Even when Kenobi was a boy, Qui-Gon sheltered him far too much and Dooku always had to remedy that when Qui-Gon shipped out, leaving Kenobi in his care. Kenobi needed to learn discipline! And it appeared he may need to show a strong hand again.

The whistle of a door sliding open and the clatter of boots scuffing up the tiled floor warned Dooku Qui-Gon finally arrived. That and his old padawan’s leaving a muted disturbance in his wake, causing the Force to be tumultuous instead of the peace Dooku was enjoying earlier.

“He’s early,” Qui-Gon said by way of greeting as he stood beside Dooku, looking out of the opened gates. His eyes searched the stars. “I thought to not see him for another day.”

“Then he is better than we were led to believe,” Dooku coolly replied. “Is the situation with Kenobi handled?”

Qui-Gon gripped his elbows as his lips thinned. “Rectify to a point.”

Ah, still soft on his old padawan. “If you need assistance in discipline —”

 “I’m sorry, Master, but I do not wish to discuss Obi-Wan at the moment,” Qui-Gon abruptly cut off Dooku, something he would never do. Dooku merely blinked at him, touching his Force presence to get a better reading on the turbulence going through Qui-Gon. Whatever it was, Kenobi did a fine job ruffling his old padawan.

Dooku acquiesced to Qui-Gon’s request and kept his comments about Kenobi to himself. They lulled into silence again. Dooku searching for any sigh of an approaching space ship. Qui-Gon? Internally fretting over the predicament titled Kenobi. His mind buzzed with what actions were deemed reasonable and necessary to show Kenobi how serious both Dooku and Qui-Gon meant.

After a quiet period of reflection, Qui-Gon spoke up. “How did he finish the job so early? That’s quite impressive.”

“Indeed,” Dooku agreed. “But as I told you before, Qui-Gon. The Temple may look like a fortress, but it is not.”

Qui-Gon smiled, accepting surrender to Dooku’s wisdom. He sighed a little, brushing the ends of his beard. “Did he wish to receive more credits to the original offer?”

Dooku nodded. “He asked for a quarter more,” he informed Qui-Gon. It didn’t come as a surprise for Dooku. Everyone always demands more.

Qui-Gon thought the same thing. “Will you?”

“Oh no,” Dooku purred in a satisfactory delight. “A man of Fett’s caliber deserves far more than only a quarter extra. I’m offering him triple.”

“Triple!” blurted Qui-Gon, clearly surprised by the announcement. “I would not have thought of you to be a generous man, my Master.”

“I’m not, but I do recognize talent,” Dooku said. And he knew Jango Fett was not a person to lose. “And I believe Jango Fett would be a highly valuable asset in this upcoming war, don’t you think?”

Qui-Gon’s head titled down in contemplation. Then with small nod of his head, Qui-Gon said: “He has been most helpful with us. First, with the clones and now, capturing Anakin.” Qui-Gon breathed easier. “He certainly makes our progress run smoothly and effectively.”

“Which is why I am offering him more than he asked,” Dooku insisted. “Make him our man rather than the Republic’s.”

“Republic’s hardly hire bounty hunters.”

“Maybe not in peace, but in time of war?” Dooku threw up his brows. “Who knows what the Republic is willing to sacrifice in the name of power?”

Dooku had seen it many times in duels, battles and wars he fought during his lifetime. Everyone was willing to betray their own principles if it meant they could win power. He’s seen the Jedi be used as pawns in power-play and witnessed Jedi’s lives perish all in the sake of power and wealth for politician who would rather drain the galaxy of sources in order to enrich their own lives. The Republic was full of these cesspool leaders, rotting the Republic from inside out.

This was why Dooku left the Order, forgone the Jedi Code. He would no longer stand beside and let himself be used as a pawn for power play. He was power. And might. And justice. Not those fake politicians who steal, murder, and bribe for power.

Dooku had the Force! It bestowed him with gifts to which he passed on his knowledge down his powerful lineage. They, the chosen lineage of the Force, the prophetic Jedi, were meant to rule the galaxy. And that was what Dooku planned to accomplish.

Qui-Gon peered up at the sky. “There he is.”

Dooku fluttered his eyes out to where Qui-Gon stared. Not too far away, he saw a spacecraft flying low over the trees and heading in their direction. Jango Fett finally arrived!

_Slave I_ landed with a deep hiss. Engines powered down as the ship groaned into satisfaction in rest. Dooku sensed a pulse in the Force right in the heart of the ship. It was strong and powerful. The boy was on the ship. Just as Fett promised.

A minute later, the sharp hiss of ramp released grabbed their attention. The ramp lowered. Seconds followed before dark-haired man clad in blue trouser and a light blue tunic strolled down the ramp. Thrown over his shoulder was a small child. Anakin Skywalker swayed behind Fett’s shoulder, blissfully unaware that he was being transferred from one custodian to another.

Dooku and Qui-Gon walked forward, meeting Jango Fett halfway. The bounty hunter stopped, his arm locked on the child’s legs. He eyed both Dooku and Qui-Gon. “As promised,” he said to them. “The safe delivery of one Anakin Skywalker.”

Qui-Gon confronted Jango, hurrying to take the child into his arms. “Give me the child,” he ordered.

Jango obliged and, careful not to hurt the boy, swung him off his shoulder. He passed the boy to Qui-Gon’s opened arms. Qui-Gon cradled the boy, brushing back a knot of hair away from the boy’s sleeping face. The moment the boy slid into Qui-Gon’s arms, Qui-Gon burst into a smile. A real, genuine smile. One that always seemed to escape him even when things were looking up. Dooku observed the quiet relief and pure joy Qui-Gon held in his soul as he stared down at Skywalker.

Both Dooku and Qui-Gon examined their bounty. One glance and Dooku already mistaken him as a street urchin of the lower levels of Coruscant. Brown-blonde hair tangled in a messy length fitted more properly with orphaned children instead of groomed Jedi Initiates. Like Kenobi, he hardly had any meat on his bones. Too skinny from poor nutrition and stress.

Other than those fickle appearances, Anakin Skywalker was relatively healthy and unharmed.

Dooku turned to Jango. “You did a fine job. We thank you for your services.”

“Of course,”Jango uttered. “Now—about my payment?”

Jango called ahead, demanding extra due to complications he did not expect to encounter. Dooku didn’t know what he meant by ‘complications’, possibly meaning Jedi intervention, but Dooku was willing to offer extra money as an incentive for Fett to work exclusively for them in the future. They could use a man as skilled as Fett in the upcoming war.

Dooku pulled out his holopad and brought up a screen. He passed it to Jango. “I think you will find this to be more than satisfactory.”

Jango read the holopoad. His eyes widened just a smudge, but other than that, he kept a collective expression. He was a man of complete control. Dooku admired that greatly. Jango looked from the screen back to Dooku. “That’s generous of you,” he remarked. “I’m guessing that this is no longer a one-time request?”

“Unless you wish otherwise?” Dooku’s hand rested on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Jango snorted. “No need to draw your weapon, Count,” he said. “I accept the position. I’ll only do contract works from you.”

“Then you will be significantly well-paid for your _timely_ services.”

Jango Fett bowed his head. “Thank you, my Lords,” he said, “I must see to my—”

“What is that?” Qui-Gon interrupted, eyes locked on something dangling off Jango’s utility belt.

Dooku eyed it as well, immediately recognizing it as a lightsaber. Jango unclipped the lightsaber. “It’s a lightsaber,” he answered, bluntly. “The boy used it to fight me, but I managed to remove it from him.”

Qui-Gon flipped his eyes to Dooku. “It’s Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.”

Dooku raised a single, silver brow. “Is it?” he murmured and he held out his hand. Jango dropped it into Dooku’s palm. Dooku felt along the edges, studying it both visually and with the Force. Qui-Gon was right. It was Kenobi’s old lightsaber. “Ah… so it is. Well, I think I’ll be holding onto it for now.”

Dooku clipped Kenobi’s lightsaber to his belt. “Thank you Jango,” he said, ending the secret meeting. “I look forward working together again.”

Jango respectively bowed and retreated to his ship in preparation to return to his home. Qui-Gon fixed his hold on Anakin, moving the boy’s head into the nook of his arm. The boy was still unaware what transpired or that he no longer resided at the Jedi Temple. He remained blissfully unaware, content enough to be held.

Qui-Gon stared a little longer at Anakin’s face. “He’s so young,” he noted, examining every line and freckle on the boy. “I know he’s only ten, but… it felt so long since I saw him. I thought of him to be a young man too.”

Dooku twisted his head to get a good look at Skywalker. On the surface, the boy didn’t look anything extraordinary. Through the Force, it was different. He was a supernova. Powerful, bright and magnetized to everything. He was exceptionally powerful Force user and their greatest weapon.

“Let us take him back to the palace,” Dooku believed they stayed at the spaceport far longer than they should. They needed to get Skywalker to the palace and restart his training too.

Qui-Gon gently carried the unconscious child to the nearby speeder. He covered Skywalker with half of his oversized robe, treating it like a blanket for Skywalker. The boy had no complaints nor gratitude yet. They made it all the way to the speeder and Qui-Gon still held the boy in his arms as he sat in the back for safety purposes.

Their driver restarted the speeder. The engine growled before turning to a roar. Skywalker shifting in Qui-Gon’s arm before settling back down again. The driver turned out of the spaceport, heading straight to Dooku’s palace.

It was all coming together. Soon, Dooku would have the entire galaxy under his iron fist.


	35. The Thin Line Between

When Obi-Wan came to, he was blindsided by a throbbing headache. He squeezed his eyes shut in refrain, a soft groan escaping his lips. He turned, feeling the plush of comfort supporting his back. Faint images trickled back into his mind, swarming together until he remembered how he got to this state. A swarm of droids. Blasters raised. A lightning bolt zapped to his chest.

Still weak from the stun's effects, Obi-Wan gradually rose when he was jerked down by a tethered electrical rope. Obi-Wan scrutinized the rope, tugging to measure the strength, but the rope didn't budge and an electric current shocked him into an excruciating muscle spasm.

Obi-Wan winced, clamping his teeth down to cope with the pain. Once the current passed, he slipped out a labored breath. He swallowed, tasting a metallic tang on his tongue. The Sith’s hospitality nearly _bettered_ every day since he was welcomed. He usually marveled at the effort used to secure him, but his discomfort at the electric tremors crawling down his arm to the rest of his body prevented him from admiring the extremity used.

The tremor let go and Obi-Wan took that brief reprieve to examine his surroundings. He was locked in a windowless room, chained to a small bed. There was a door, but not handle or even a pad was available on his side. Escape was impossible.

Patience, he reminded himself. Patience was key. The Force will provide when ready. He needed to believe in that speck of hope. After all, Satine got away. That was more important than his freedom anyway. Another electric shock zapped him and Obi-Wan bared the pain. No amount of pain would make him regret his actions.

A flare lit up in the Force, warning Obi-Wan of an approaching storm. He jerked his head to the door just as it opened.

Qui-Gon Jinn filled the doorway with his large frame. Blue eyes glowered at him, flutters of disappointment crossing those raging rivers of blue and yellow. He stood in the doorway briefly before taking a step further into the room. The door slammed shut.

Qui-Gon traveled about the room, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan. Finally, his feet came to stop just close enough that if he needed, he could choke Obi-Wan with his bare hands. But his hands to not rest on Obi-Wan’s neck. They fall onto the mattress as he leaned, blowing out steams of hair through his flared nostrils.

“Disappointment, I fear, would be an understatement,” Qui-Gon finally spoke. “I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable with this situation and yet… you seem to go out of your way to make it incredibly difficult to do so.”

Obi-Wan remained silent.

“Hours ago I would have apologize for such crude restraints, but now, I see the use for them,” Qui-Gon roamed his eyes over the electric ropes that kept Obi-Wan strapped down. “Unpleasant, but it keeps a prisoner in check.”

“I’m downgraded from guest to prisoner,” Obi-Wan noted, though he always considered himself to be a prisoner. “It’s about time I received my proper title.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes burned. “You’re not a prisoner, but if you keep disobeying, I can assure you that you’ll be treated as one in the future.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“Then I have nothing to fear.” Obi-Wan turned his head away from Qui-Gon, choosing to look straight up at the ceiling. “Thank you for passing on your feelings and veiled threats. I’ll keep them noted as I waste away here.”

Qui-Gon raised his brows. “You think I would leave you here?”

Obi-Wan did his best attempt at a shrug. “You’ve abandoned me before,” he said. “It would not surprise me for you to do so now.”

Qui-Gon fisted the sheets. “You need to stop saying that,” he growled. “I did not _abandon_ you.”

“No?” Obi-Wan scrunched up his face in mock thought. “My memory must be fading, because I have very few recollections of the two of us doing anything together.”

“I guess it is,” Qui-Gon grunted in returned.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in grievance. Disinterested in talking in circles, Obi-Wan took a stab at the very center of their conversation. “Perhaps we should get on with the punishment,” he announced. “I’m sure Count Dooku is more than ready to teach me another valuable lesson.”

Qui-Gon did not appreciate his commentary. “You’ll find yourself disappointed,” he gravely informed Obi-Wan. “Such punishments are not on the table for you.”

That surprised Obi-Wan. He flipped his questionable gaze to Qui-Gon. “It’s not?”

The Sith Lord shook his head. “No. It’s not,” he repeated. “Though it should be considering you took a shot at me.”

“I knew you would deflect it,” Obi-Wan said. And he did. The shot was only meant to distract him. “Besides, it was set for stun. Not to kill.”

“Which is why I reconsidered punishing you,” Qui-Gon said, folding his arms in a more relaxed posture. “I knew your main goal was not to escape, but to distract me and everyone else from your true purpose.”

Qui-Gon smoothed his beard. “We have our men searching for the Duchess as we speak. We will find her.”

“I doubt it,” Obi-Wan stated. “She’s long gone by now.”

“Is she?” Qui-Gon hummed. “Probably not as far as you like. After all, we grounded all ships the minute I discovered your deceit. No ship has entered or exited from the palace.”

The galaxy must have stilled and the stars vanished before him. He saw complete darkness as fear seeped through the cracks of shield. Qui-Gon had to be lying. He must be. He watched Satine board the cargo ship. It was getting ready to leave. He saw the pilot…

“You’re lying!” blurted Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I’m not. Do you think of me foolish to not ground all ships once I found you missing? Dooku and I are not padawans. We learn from mistakes.”

Obi-Wan’s heart raged, pumping blood faster than he could even breathe. But then he remembered. Qui-Gon said his men were _searching_ for Satine. Meaning they have yet to find her. Which meant he did not have her.

That knowledge quelled his fear and left a small trace of a smile. “If you have not found her yet, then I doubt you ever will.”

“I commend her ability to hide for this long, but that is not surprising,” Qui-Gon admitted. “After all, she spent a good portion of her first year as a Mandalore ruler in hiding.”

Obi-Wan gritted at the insult Qui-Gon threw at her. “Only because her protectors failed to stop the madness brewing on the planet.”

“Yes, the very protectors who kept her alive during her time on the run,” Qui-Gon mused. “I do wonder how long she could survive on her own.”

“She’s stronger than you think.”

Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan’s chest. “You would know,” he snickered.

Obi-Wan arched his body, jerking it to throw Qui-Gon’s hand off him. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed. “And yes I would know because you constantly left me in charge of keeping her safe while you ran off to Force knows where to meet up with our enemies!”

Qui-Gon released an air of annoyance. “I left to give the two of you privacy,” he said. “Do you honestly think I needed to visit Death Watch that many times to get them under my sway? No. In fact, not all my departures had anything to do with meeting up with Death Watch. I left because I could sense your desire for her.”

Obi-Wan’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “And to think I thought you were trying to keep us safe.”

“I was,” Qui-Gon agreed. “My meetings with the Death Watch meant no harm would come to you or the Duchess. At least, until the Duchess became a problem. Even then, I managed to get Death Watch to spare her. All for you by the way.”

Qui-Gon returned, peering down at Obi-Wan with befuddled confusion and sadness. “So, you must forgive me why I am surprised you forced Satine to run,” he confessed. “You love her. She loves you. You both could have been happy. Had everything you wanted. I told you this.”

Obi-Wan’s chest rose once. “And I told you we could not.”

“Why is that?” Qui-Gon pressed. “Why do you refuse to let yourself be happy?”

“I’m not refusing to be happy.”

“Then why do you keep pushing everything good away?” Qui-Gon relentlessly interrogated and Obi-Wan felt his shields bend against the onslaught. “Tell me!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Obi-Wan returned, aggravated. He twisted his restraints, receiving multiple electric jolts, but he embraced the pain in hope he could break out of the restraints. “You can’t understand.”

Qui-Gon watched at the futile attempts to escape the restraints. “Explain then? You and I have nowhere else to be at the moment.”

Obi-Wan tugged, his nostrils smelling burnt hair and mouth tasting more like copper. “We just can’t be together.”

“Why?”

“Why do you even care!?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not!”

“Then explain.”

Obi-Wan grinded his teeth so hard his whole jaw began to ache. “Leave me alone!”

Qui-Gon snatched his chin, forcing Obi-Wan to look at him. “Tell me why, Obi-Wan.”

“You won’t understand! A Sith cannot possibly understand!”

“Maybe I can?”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “I doubt it.”

“Try me. Explain.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Tell me.”

“Why can’t you—”

“Tell me, Obi-Wan.”

“ _Because I would HATE her_!”

The feral, desperate scream didn’t sound like him. Yet, it poured out of him. The last word still dripping off his lips and echoing in his ears. All the heat inside him blasted out in a flaming fire. His heart burned. All that anger, fear and despair ripped through him mercilessly and he unleashed it to free himself from the pain.

He must of spook Qui-Gon for his old master retreated a bit. Bewilderment etched in his face as he gazed down on Obi-Wan. It was clear he did not expect the outburst.

Shallow breaths panted out of him as his body tensed. “I would hate her,” he repeated, his tear ducts flooding. “And she would hate me too.”

All of his reserve strength zapped out of him, draining more and more upon each breath he took. He closed his eyes, unable to handle looking at Qui-Gon. “She’d hate me for keeping her here. For keeping her away from her people as they suffer,” he trickled out. “And I would feel guilty for it. So much that it would make me angry and I would hate her for blaming me.

"The thin line would break," Obi-Wan uttered, exhausted as his body sunk lower into the mattress. "I do not want it to break for us."

No noise was made except for the occasional whimper that slipped past Obi-Wan. He hadn’t meant to cry. It overcame him. The violate emotions took control of his mind and limbs that he almost felt like he was trapped within his own body. A caged prisoner as he watched himself betray himself. In front of Qui-Gon no less.

A long silence stilled the room. Qui-Gon did not say a word, but Obi-Wan sensed his eyes upon him. A panoply of sympathetic understanding and true pity, but a quiet retreat to offer safe space to regain composure.

It took Obi-Wan a few minutes to convince himself to reopen his eyes. When he did, he immediately found Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord moved to the door. He stood at a relatively respectful distance he could give in the small room. His head was humbly tilted downward to respect privacy, but ready to engage when needed.

Obi-Wan stared at him, trying to find his voice again. “Do you understand now?” he croaked, his throat sore from his cries. “We can never be together.”

Qui-Gon removed himself from the wall, slowly strolling up to the bed again. He fell against the edge of the bed, but did not sit down. And when he spoke, it was with a quiet tone: “Why did you not tell me?”

“I did.”

“Yes, but not like this.”

Obi-Wan’s chest fluttered down. “That was because you wouldn’t believe me,” he confessed. “You always took to your own counsel. No one else’s.” Obi-Wan glanced away, head turned to another bare wall. “You got your answer. Now—leave me alone.”

Obi-Wan didn’t hear the soft footfalls of retreat as he hoped. Rather, he heard snaps and clicks, and his restraints disengaged, releasing him. Obi-Wan narrowed at the disabled restraints before turning his head back to Qui-Gon.

The Sith Lord gestured Obi-Wan to get up. “Come on.”

“Leave me be.”

Qui-Gon’s expression remained impassive. “I promised you that I wouldn’t leave you here,” he reminded. “I’m keeping my word.” He ushered Obi-Wan to hurry. “Come on.”

To encourage him out of the bed, Qui-Gon shook Obi-Wan to rile him up. Obi-Wan wiggled away, nearly falling over the edge until he leapt off the bed, his landing imperfect. He scuttled away, his feet tripping over one another as he moved alongside the walls. He stayed pressed up against the wall, eyeing Qui-Gon questionably and threateningly.

Qui-Gon didn’t react. He headed for the door as it automatically opened for him. “Follow me, young one,” he said. “Brush away those tears and follow me.”

Obi-Wan shot his hand to his face. His cheeks slippery from trails of tears. He wiped them away, his face reddening as he remembered his outburst. Qui-Gon waited by the door. He didn’t say anything more, but Obi-Wan lumbered over to him in defeat. It was pointless to object over something as trivial as staying locked in a room. Another fight would come along and he needed to save his dismal strength for that one.

* * *

Satine did as she was told. She found a safe compartment to hide in as the pilots marched up the ramp, discussing their next routes and shipments. As they drone on about different trading posts, Satine heard the beeping of a comlink interrupt the conversation.

“This is Captain Uwen,” came a human voice. “Yes sir! Will do sir!”

A click signaled the conversation ended. “Looks like we have prisoners on the loose,” said Captain Uwen. “All ships are grounded until found.”

“Which prisoners?”

“Female and male,” answered Captain Uwen. “That’s all I got, but our trip out is postponed. I say we hit the town and grab a few drinks.”

“Shouldn’t we be looking for the prisoners? Maybe they’re on the ship?” came a new and squeakier voice.

Satine cringed at the thought of them spotting her. She nudged closer to the back end, her spine breaking against the wall. Luckily, the others laughed at the suggestion. “Us? We aren’t soldiers. Just pilots. Besides they have that whole droid armada going. They’ll find who they lost soon enough. I saw we get pissed.”

The clanking of boots hitting metal, fading in the distance comforted Satine. She breathed easier now that she knew they were gone, but her heart still raced at full speed. The ships were grounded. She was still stuck on Serenno and all of their hard work at escaping was plummeting down the drain. Satine could not keep hiding in the ship. Eventually, they would find her and… and… Satine did not even want to _think_ what the Sith would do to her. Already, she panicked about what they would do to Obi-Wan once they found him. She didn’t need to indulge herself with torture fantasies for herself.

Certain she could not keep sheltered in the ship, she carefully removed herself from the secret compartment. She was alone. Not a soul on the ship. She fixed her military uniform, cuffing back the sleeves and stealthily swiped back down the corridor to the ramp. She peaked out, watching laborers working on the crates with only a few soldiers left behind to remain order. It seemed the other soldiers rushed off to find her and Obi-Wan.

Satine waited for the coast to be clear before she disembarked from the ship. The moment no one looked in her direction. She slipped off the side of the ramp and ducked behind objects as she hopped from one end to the next. No one noticed her strange behavior. With the loss of manpower, the laborers and remaining soldiers were doing their best to remove the crates from the docking bay to their rightful destination.

Cowering behind a pillar, she recognized the voices from the ship. Captain Uwen and his comrades. She took a quick glimpse and spotted them hovering near speeder bikes. They were arguing with another man, getting a bit heated as Satine watched one of Captain Uwen’s men jab a finger into the other man’s shoulder. Some more shouting, causing a maelstrom distraction in the tiny hanger bay. More soldiers joined to support their own from the pilots.

Her gaze turned away from the argument to the rows of speeder bikes sitting unattended. She glanced back to the fight again. They were still oblivious of her, squatting beside the pillar. She considered using the stun blaster to knock the soldiers and pilots out, but there were far too many and too much commotion that would gather more unwanted attention. Crouched, she thought of her next available option. An idea prickled in her mind. It was the best choice for her. With the fight was increasing and their attention to their vehicles decreasing, it was the perfect time to enact her plan. Her only time.

She crawled to the closest speeder bike, camouflaging herself as best she could. She didn’t have the keys, but she didn’t need keys. During her year on the run, she watched Obi-Wan perform multiple vehicle hijacks through re-wiring. He even spent one afternoon teaching her some rudimentary knowledge about engineering.

Careful to not make a sound, she popped the cover to reveal the cascade of colorful wires that embedded into the speeder bike. Red, blue, green and yellow. All of them tangled with on another like deep-rooted tree. She studied the maze of wires, recalling how Obi-Wan re-wired a speeder bike. Nervously, she glanced back to the front of the hanger. The pilots were getting louder as the soldiers pulled their blasters from their holsters. Satine ducked down. The fight was nearing to an end and Satine could not let them see her.

She quickly untangled the two wires she needed. Blue and green. She remembered well because they were the colors of Obi-Wan’s eyes. Giving a good tug, she got the two wires to come undone. She flickered her eyes passed the speeder bike, checking in on her distraction. They were still occupied with one another, much to Satine’s relief and surprise. She honestly believed the soldiers would have started shooting by now.

With great care, she used her nails to strip the wire to its bare copper. Now was the moment she dreaded and revered. If she got it to work right away, she could escape to the real world. If it didn’t, then she was sitting duck, calling for all predators to her exact location. She did not want the latter.

Taking a deep breath, she prayed to whoever or whatever that it would work.

Satine brought the wires together. A brief touch at their tips and a flash of a spark erupted on the ends. Satine jumped at the same time she heard the engine give an awakening grunt. It whined back down, croaking back to sleep. Satine stared back down at the wires. She tapped the wires together again.

The engine roared louder, but it faded to soft thwacks in its dying wake.

“Who’s over there?”

Satine flipped her head up. Looked like she stole the show. Both the soldiers and pilots halted their fight, all turning their attention to her. This was not good.

Satine brought the wires together again and the spark cackled in mockery at her attempt as the engine whizzed into a sputtering mess.

“Hey! Get away from that bike!”

“I think she’s the prisoner. Halt! You are under arrest!”

Oh no I am not! Satine blared in her own thought as she furiously brought the two wires again. The wire sparked and snapped. The engine howled its disturbance before it fell into a thundering hum. The speeder bike was fully engaged.

Satine scrambled onto the seat as the soldiers rushed at her. She thrusted the release switch. The speeder bike rose off the ground. As the soldiers drew close, Satine squeezed the hand clutch all the way down.

The speeder bike jerked before it blasted out of the hanger at full speed, leaving Satine’s terrified screams scattering in the wind.

* * *

Qui-Gon did his best to keep to the meandering pace Obi-Wan designated to. His young apprentice dragged his feet, kept his head down and said nothing since they left the room. He stayed a few steps behind, but not too far. Qui-Gon kept him in range in case he needed to whip around and stop Obi-Wan from doing something unwise. Not that there was any need to. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to run and there was no danger afoot.

Qui-Gon checked again on Obi-Wan. His apprentice no longer had tears tracks running down his cheeks. His eyes remained slightly pink, but nonetheless, the signs of his distress were less visible on his face. In the Force, that was another story.

The bond was fragile. Any attempt to even communicate through it could leave it in shards again. Its double-edged creation pricked Qui-Gon’s Force presence mercilessly, bombarding him with old feelings to which dragged him into a brooding nature. Though these were not feelings of his own. They belonged to Obi-Wan. His broadcasted remorse darkened all things, leaving little trace of happiness left as it suffocated life itself and provoked the Living Force into disruption.

Obi-Wan always had the talent to cause trouble.

Qui-Gon, however, refrained from saying anything. Since Obi-Wan’s confession, Qui-Gon could not stop to think that the young man made an excellent point. Qui-Gon never took into consideration that there could be repercussions. He thought that their love would conquer all doubts and conflictions. Qui-Gon believed he was doing right by Obi-Wan, giving him the love of his life. No longer obligated to their duties, they were free to love fiercely and unconditionally, without being scorned or shamed. In all honesty, Qui-Gon truly believed he was doing them a favor.

And yet, Obi-Wan’s heartbreaking declaration was a viewpoint Qui-Gon did not considered. Love turning to hate… it seemed implausible. How could something as pure as love turn as dark as hate? It was highly unlikely and yet, Obi-Wan gave him a perfect set-up as to how it could happen to him and Satine. In fact, now that Qui-Gon considered it, their interactions appeared to be directed to that destructive point.

They rounded the steps, winding further down until they came to a heavy door. Qui-Gon opened it and shepherded Obi-Wan into the room. Obi-Wan blinked, becoming animated as he quickly scanned the room, taking evidence as he gathered up his thoughts.

“We’re in the kitchens,” Obi-Wan concluded as he eyed the counters filled with cutlery and appliances.

Qui-Gon nodded. “You missed dinner and I doubt they’ll have something hot ready to eat, but… you do need to eat.” Qui-Gon pulled out two stools that lined up against the island counter. Obi-Wan slowly settled himself on the seat when a robust woman with thick gold curls walked into the room, carrying a box of produce in her arms.

She startled at seeing them sitting in her sanctuary kitchen. She eyed them, peering at the two until her grey eyes twinkled in glee. “Obi-Wan Kenobi?” she inquired, hope rising in her pitched voice. “Is that really—oh! My goodness! It _is_ you!”

Obi-Wan recognized her as well. He pulled himself off his stool as the woman came bounding around the corner. “Joline,” he said with a smile that removed all traces of his sadness. “It’s good to—”

He was immediately cut off as Joline wrapped her thick arms around him, squeezing him in an unforgettable embrace. He rosy cheeks burst into a delirious smile as she rocked Obi-Wan with delighted laughter. Qui-Gon humorously watched, sharing a smile as Joline squealed. Once Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan’s struggle to breath did he wave Joline down. “Let the boy breathe,” he said and Joline reluctantly released Obi-Wan.

But, she didn’t stop beaming at him. “I told Lord Jinn that you would come back home one of these days,” she said to Obi-Wan, turning to look over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did,” Qui-Gon assented.

“I knew you would come back,” Joline persisted to say. “Everyone else may have believed you were gone for good, but I didn’t. Nope. Not a day went by where I doubted your return. I always knew you would return.”

She looked over Obi-Wan’s face with hungry eyes. “Oh and you have such a handsome face,” she cupped both sides of Obi-Wan’s face, tilting it one way to the next to see all angles. “Doesn’t he have a handsome face, Lord Jinn? I’m sure you attract ladies wherever you go. With those eyes? And with that hair? And bone structure? Force-sake! I can’t believe you aren’t even married yet!

“Wait—you look positively ill!” Joline exclaimed, the joy in her eyes fallen to grey clouds of worry. “You’re so thin. And fragile. Have they not been feeding you enough wherever you were? I mean… this is outrageous! You’re practically starved!”

“Joline?” Qui-Gon’s voice carried over, knowing that he needed to stop Joline from going on her long ramblings. “That’s the reason we’re here. Obi-Wan missed dinner and I know you probably don’t have anything hot at this moment, but do you have anything ready?”

Joline smiled slyly at Qui-Gon. “Of course! I can whip up something quick. It’ll be cold, but filling and full of the right nutrients to get you back to strength.” Joline said, patting Obi-Wan’s cheek. “It’s good to have you home again, Obi-Wan.”

“Yes it is,” Qui-Gon agreed and he flicked his eyes up back to Joline. “The food Joline?”

Joline, who kept smiling over at Obi-Wan, jumped. “Yes! Right of course! I’ll be quick,” she said, turning away from the group. “Stay there. I’ll be back!”

She dashed off, going back down the same corridor she came from just a moment ago. For a human nearing the age of fifty, she certainly kept a bounce in her walk. Obi-Wan returned to his seat, raking his fingers through his hair to smooth it back down from Joline’s ruffling.

“I see Joline has not changed a bit,” Obi-Wan observed.

“Still as lively as ever,” Qui-Gon commented. “She did miss you though. Always held hope that you would come back.”

“I missed her too,” Obi-Wan said, looking to the corridor where Joline ran off to. “Especially when all I could scavenged up to eat was slugs.”

Qui-Gon wrinkled his brow. “Tasty,” he deadpanned.

Quick and scurried footfalls pitter-pattered the floor until Joline’s big form returned carrying a small tray. She shuffled to Obi-Wan’s side, placing the tray down as she pulled out a bowl of what appeared to be rice and white beans with a side of dried tonitran jerky and a slice of bread.

“I know it’s not the best meal,” Joline said, sounding disappointed in herself. “But it should keep that belly warm until morning. I’ll make sure your breakfast tomorrow is hot and full of your favorites. Oh! Before I forget,” She placed a cup of tea in front of Obi-Wan, the steam somewhat settling over the rims of the cup. “It’s your favorite. I scrounged up a packet for you and added a drip of honey in it. Just as you always liked it.”

Dooku wouldn’t have dared to even touch the plate, but Obi-Wan, he was very appreciative as he picked up his fork to dig in. “You’re too kind for this world, Joline,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”

Joline gushed as she patted Obi-Wan’s head. “Anytime, my boy. Anytime at all.”

Obi-Wan dug into his meal, eating the rice and beans in big bites. Qui-Gon’s eyes raised from Obi-Wan to Joline, signaling her to leave them in peace. Joline got the message and slipped away, taking her box of produce with her.

Alone, Qui-Gon waited until Obi-Wan’s stomach was satisfied. It took him a long time to reach to that point. After all, Obi-Wan not only missed dinner, but had little to eat at breakfast and lunch. He must have been starving when Joline set down the platter. The young man depleted the rice and beans, scarfed the slice of bread and nibbled on the dried jerky. It wasn’t the best of meals, but then again, anything was better than cooked slugs. At least, Qui-Gon would like to think so.

With a satisfied groan of a filled stomach, Obi-Wan pushed away his plates and resigned to the bliss of a full stomach. Qui-Gon saw it as his opening.

“I want you to know that I am sorry I forced you and Satine into doing something neither wanted to do,” he started off, avoiding Obi-Wan’s hardened gaze to keep him from faltering in his announcement. “That wasn’t my intention, but I see my mistake and I apologize.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest, jutting his chin in defiance. “That’s a first for you. Admitting to a mistake. How brave of you.”

Qui-Gon very much wanted to zip Obi-Wan’s mouth sometimes. “Indeed, which is why, to show good-faith,” he said, luring Obi-Wan to listen carefully to his next words, “I decided that once we find the Duchess, we’ll ship her off to Coruscant or wherever. Provide an apartment there for her exclusive use.”

“You mean you are letting her go?” Obi-Wan looked hopeful, lowering his arms down to his lap.

“It means we are letting her leave the planet,” Qui-Gon corrected, not wanting Obi-Wan to get the wrong impression. “We cannot simply release her. Not if she plans to win her planet back from Death Watch. Arrangements will be made that will allow the former Duchess to live comfortably. I can only offer that much.”

Obi-Wan rolled the offer through his brain, picking and scrutinizing every word. It was a far nicer deal than what Dooku originally implemented. He optioned she be returned to Death Watch. By all means though, Qui-Gon was sincere in his offer to spare the Duchess of humiliation or execution. He would send a team with her, set her up in an apartment in whatever planet she desired (not Mandalore) and provide whatever she reasonably needed. It was the best offer Satine would get in the circumstances she found herself in.

The contemplative quieting had gone long enough. “The alternative is not better, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon advised his old padawan. “She’ll die and you don’t want that on your conscious.”

A single brow arched high up on his forehead. He tipped back in his seat, a man with grim introspection. “No, I do not wish for that,” he muttered, brushing his back fingers against his mouth. “But, it’s not me you need to convince. It’s the Duchess of Mandalore.” The mercurial temperament shifting as Obi-Wan eyes lightened in mockery. “And you have yet to find her.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Obi-Wan’s smile widened. “Is that what you told yourself when Anakin and I left?”

“You’re here now, are you not?”

“Still don’t have Anakin.”

And yes. That was a proud achievement for Obi-Wan in keeping young Skywalker away. It worked for seven years until he passed the boy off to the incompetent Jedi. And now, Qui-Gon had the opportune moment to put Obi-Wan in his place. Qui-Gon lightly tapped against the counter, debating on whether to dismount Obi-Wan from his self-righteous pedestal.

Before Obi-Wan woke from his stupor, Qui-Gon had no intentions of informing him of Anakin’s arrival. He planned to keep them separated for the first few weeks of Anakin’s introduction as punishment for Obi-Wan’s defiance. Those thoughts were created out of anger and he calmed himself back down to sanity level as he spoke to Obi-Wan. Once retreated to a cool head, Qui-Gon realized the pointlessness in the separation. The two would sense the other and do their utmost to be reunited.

Decision made, Qui-Gon rose out of his seat. “I actually have a surprise for you,” he told Obi-Wan, which made the young man tense in apprehension. “I was to show it to you after dinner, but… you were a bit occupied at the moment.

“To which afterwards I even debated whether to show you or not,” Qui-Gon rumbled on as he nudged his head for Obi-Wan to follow. “But I believe you would find out sooner rather than later anyway.”

They left the kitchens, leaving Obi-Wan’s dirty plates for Joline to handle. Qui-Gon led the way, mentally checking on Obi-Wan every now and then. Obi-Wan remained wary, guarded as he followed just a single step behind Qui-Gon. A defense mechanism he must have picked up living on the run. They weaved their way through the palace, getting closer to the destination.

He checked back on Obi-Wan. The young man’s brows furrowed in familiar concentration. His eyes slid from one door to the next, sensing something that he couldn’t quite believe. Puzzled, he flashed his eyes to Qui-Gon. “May I ask what type of surprise this is?”

“You may.”

Obi-Wan didn’t. He fell back to his quiet nature, cataloguing everything to help him narrow down his answer. He was always like that. His legs may not be running, but his mind always was.

Qui-Gon stopped in front of the door, moving to make room for Obi-Wan to stand beside him. Obi-Wan took one look at the door, face pinched in a quizzical misinterpretation. He sensed a presence on the other side of the room. It was muted, due to inhibitors they locked on Anakin. Nonetheless, Obi-Wan sensed him and the familiarity crossed along his face.

He looked to Qui-Gon. “Who’s in there?”

Qui-Gon gave him a tiny smile. “You’ll see.”

He opened the door with his handprint. The scanner read and accepted the print. The doors softly hissed and creaked before it whizzed opened to a large bedroom.

On the bed, tucked in with blankets, was Anakin Skywalker. Still sound asleep from where Qui-Gon left him.

Qui-Gon turned to say more to Obi-Wan, but the young man shoved passed Qui-Gon and sprinted to Anakin’s side. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, hands on Anakin’s shoulders as he murmured to the sleeping child. A stir awoken, a light flickering back to life as Anakin’s limbs rolled in a stretch.

Qui-Gon heard a question whisper between them before small arms suddenly engulfed Obi-Wan. Blonde tussles of hair burrowed into Obi-Wan’s neck, muffling cries of delight from the boy. Qui-Gon caught a few mutters of comforts from Obi-Wan as he embraced the child in his arms.

As the reunion unfolded, the Force rose in high tide. A clash riveting within the Force. A cold wind whiplashed through the Force, a chill struck straight to the bones. But, a rising sun melted the cold away. The Force slowed and a warm glow enveloped to a quiet tranquility. Rising from the quiet, Qui-Gon heard a gentle hum. The same song he heard when Obi-Wan and Anakin met on Tatooine.

A soft sigh slipped passed his parted lips as he lingered at the door. All was well. He reunited them again and the Force sang its approval, joyous that its favorite children were back together again. No more darkness. No more turmoil. All would be well as long as the two were together.

Qui-Gon understood. The prophecy spoke of a rebalance. An ending to all they know and a beginning of a new era.

Noiselessly as to not disrupt the reunion, Qui-Gon removed himself from the room to offer Obi-Wan and Anakin privacy. Let the boys catch up and rest before the sun rises full. Tomorrow, they will begin fulfilling their destinies.


	36. Chapter 36: The Reunion

**Chapter 36: The Reunion**

The gentle tug in Anakin's head lured him away from unconsciousness. He stirred, muscles stretching as his mind pulled away from sleepiness to a blurred smears of grey. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dizziness. A chill ran over him and Anakin nestled into the blanket.

A voice came overhead. "Anakin."

Anakin moaned. "Five more minutes, Obi-Wan."

A quiet chuckle sounded above him. "A sleepyhead wherever you are."

Anakin curled his mouth downward, ready with a riposte of his own when it clicked. He snapped his eyes wide open, the blurriness sharpened to a clear picture. He flipped on his back, staring straight up at the warm face of Obi-Wan Kenobi. In that second, Anakin questioned whether he was dreaming or if it was real. Then Obi-Wan smiled.

"It's not a dream, little one."

Anakin flung the blankets off and launched himself at Obi-Wan. He roped his little arms around him, burying his head in the nook of Obi-Wan's neck. Tears streamed down his face and with it, the fears that contorted him these past few days. Obi-Wan was here. Everything would be good again. 

Obi-Wan patted his back. "It's good to see you too."

"I didn't think I would ever see you again."

Once he voiced that fear, he expelled it. No longer was he a bundle of neurosis, expecting the worst at every turn. Obi-Wan was sitting beside him, holding him like he did when nightmares attacked. Anakin was safe and he rested with that knowledge. 

Obi-Wan, in turn, only ruffled the back of his head. "What did I always tell you?" he teased. "We will always see each other again... though I wish it was under better circumstances."

And that was when Anakin realized the situation. Cold seeped back into his skin, dousing down from head to toe in icy terror. Eyes scanned the room, noticing the subtle difference in details from his stay in the Temple. It was far more modern and upscale. A place of wealth and power. Dark power. 

Anakin clung to Obi-Wan, his grip restricting Obi-Wan’s esophagus. "It's all right," Obi-Wan wheezed out. "You're okay."

Anakin didn't think so. After the past month, he witnessed far too many cruelties brought on by the Sith to know "safe" was not an accurate description. "We gotta get out of here! We have to leave before... before..."

After taking another look around the room, he realized that there was no panel on the closed door. Even the windows had no way of opening. They were trapped in the room. "How are we going to get out? Are they going to--"

Obi-Wan shushed Anakin as he broke their embrace, much to Anakin's dislike. He snatched a fistful of Obi-Wan's tunic to keep him in reach. "Calm down," Obi-Wan said. "There's nothing to be afraid at the moment."

“Nothing to be afraid?” Anakin rebuked, his face crinkled in disagreement. “Obi-Wan! They’re  _Sith Lords_! Murderers! They destroyed Mandalore! Satine—”

“Satine is safe,” Obi-Wan assured him.

Anakin wrinkled his brow in a deep furrow. “What? How would you know?”

“Because she was here. With me. Until about,” Obi-Wan glanced around for a chronometer, “seven hours ago when I helped her escape.”

“She escaped?”

Obi-Wan drooped his head to the side, brushing his fingers through his noticeably shorter hairstyle. In fact, after Anakin reexamined, Obi-Wan looked a lot different than he last saw him. Besides the haircut, Obi-Wan’s skin lost its rough exterior. The dirt stains and calluses vanished, replaced with a glow and smooth skin. The clothes he wore were delicate materials. Fine cloth that Anakin never imagined Obi-Wan to wear. The colors were plain. Nothing extravagant like he’s seen others wear clothes, but it was far from the rags Obi-Wan usually adorned.

Anakin heard a low sigh coming from Obi-Wan. “Well, she escaped from the palace. As from the planet? I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan confessed, his eyes drawn to the floor. “I did what I could. But, I have great faith that she will succeed.”

“Are the Siths going to kill her?” Like they killed my mom? Anakin thought.

Obi-Wan raised a shoulder before dropping his hands to his knees. “I’m not sure. Qui-Gon said he wouldn’t, but… Siths are deceitful creatures,” he said, pensive. “I can only hope.”

“Are they going to kill you?”

Obi-Wan fully turned to look at Anakin. “What?”

“Are they going to kill you?” Anakin repeated the question, but this time, his voice was shaking a little.

It took Obi-Wan only a few seconds to comprehend the fear that twisted Anakin’s gut enough to make him cry. “No… no, I’m not going anywhere,” Obi-Wan said as he took Anakin back in his arms to calm the restless heart. “You don’t have to worry about me, Anakin.”

Anakin sniffled as he tried very hard not to cry. “Someone has to.”

It was true. Of all the years Anakin has ever recalled, no one ever looked after Obi-Wan. Anakin spent his life knowing that he had Obi-Wan to fall back to, someone to be there when he messed up and help him. Catch him when he fell type of thing. Obi-Wan never had someone like that. He had no one to lean upon nor someone to call for help. It was just him. Sure, Anakin did his best to not be so difficult or he tried his hardest to do things right the first time, so that he could help Obi-Wan. But, it wasn’t the same as Obi-Wan helping Anakin.

Someone needed to care for him. And Anakin was the only person who was willing to do so.

Obi-Wan patted his back upon hearing Anakin’s remark. “Yes, well, it should not be you. You’re still a boy. You don’t need any more burdens than what you have now.

“To ease your anxiety, I don’t believe they want me dead,” Obi-Wan added with a tinge of hopefulness. “So—release your fears into the Force and let’s not talk more about death. No one is going to die.”

At first, Anakin rightfully believed so. Satine was alive albeit on the run. Obi-Wan was alive and sitting beside him. He could banish all those fears away! He no longer had to be haunted by his memories of Mandalore in smoke. Or the Duchess’s parting words. Of the Temple’s cold demeanor. Or Bant’s…

Bant.

A fresh wave of tears spilled onto Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry," Anakin sobbed, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s tunics. "I'm so sorry."

Obi-Wan quietly shushed Anakin, a hand rubbing the back of his head to settle him. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I did! I did! I got Bant killed!"

Obi-Wan's hand froze. "What?"

The Force tightened, coalescing into a rock which plummeted straight to the bottom of a vast sea. A gigantic wave crashing into the two of them, spiraling them into a monstrous abyss. Trembling, Anakin reeled back, his glossy eyes meeting Obi-Wan's shocked mien. Color drained from his red cheeks, his mouth agape as if unable to digest what he heard. 

Then, with difficulty, Obi-Wan followed up. "What happened?"

Anakin wasn't quite sure he remembered all the details. He remembered walking back with Bant through the gardens when they ran into an impostor. Anakin tried to warn Bant, but the imposter shot her directly in the chest. Bant dropped without a single sound. And she rested there with starlight in her eyes.

The rest was blur. Anakin recalled bringing out the lightsaber and slicing the blaster in half. He shot through the garden as the impostor gave chase, firing a new blaster that he hid on the other side of his belt. But again, the memory was a mess. Everything happened to fast for Anakin to compute properly. His last recollection was using Obi-Wan's lightsaber to block a bolt aimed at him.

He relayed this all to Obi-Wan, who listened in quiet somber. He nodded encouragingly every time Anakin hesitated, needing to know the full story. By the end, Obi-Wan sat hunched on the bed, his hands wiping his face to hide his distress. He didn't need to though. The deep wound carved into them both. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, a shudder escaping along with the horrid of emotions that came with the story. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Obi-Wan started, averting his gaze to the floor. "I... I didn't want any of that to happen. I—Force! I wish it never happened." He dropped his head into his hands, fingers twisting around the short tendrils of his hair.

Anakin wished the same thing. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"But—"

"It's not your fault," Obi-Wan repeated again, emphasizing every single word. "None of it is."

Anakin slumped. A chill crept up his spine and he shivered. It was like sinking into a pit of utter darkness. Where nightmares dwelled. To be his companion forever. He shuddered, shoulders twitched in response to the cold that drenched him. There was no escape. It was his fate to be the constant companion of fear and loss.

An arm slithered out, pulling him out of the sinkhole. The ice melted off and Anakin found himself pressed close to Obi-Wan. He lifted his eyes up to Obi-Wan, spying the marks of pain etched onto his face. Most wouldn’t see it. On the surface, Obi-Wan looked collected and calm. Sad, but accepted. Anakin knew the difference. Grief shadowed the normally lake-blue eyes into a grey fog. The Force coiled, spiky that Anakin ached from its touch.

Anakin dropped his head, staring at his wrung hands. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Obi-Wan responded just above a whisper.

They sat. Isolated. Lost. Searching for something too far out of reach. Obi-Wan went quiet. Not only vocally, but also the Force. A stillness that haunted Anakin for he had never seen Obi-Wan deflated of hope. Anakin wrangled his hands together, thinking hard about what he could do or say to bring back that easy, relax smile to Obi-Wan's face. Nothing came to mind and Anakin was left feeling inadequate.

The silence lulled on for a while until a murmur broke through the reflective meditation. "We'll get through this, Anakin. I promise," Obi-Wan said so quietly that Anakin had to closely listen to hear every word. "We won't let those bastards take everything."

Anakin, mouth set in a straight, determined line, agreed. "We'll fight."

Obi-Wan gave Anakin an affection half-embraced, but didn’t say another word. He looked straight out the window, enamored with whatever thoughts plagued him. They didn’t break apart. They stayed like that. Not saying a word. Wrapped together in their small huddle, leaning heavily upon each other for support and shelter. They braced together, the fate ahead a dark promise and no guarantee of comfort.

All they had were each other.

And that was good enough for them.

* * *

Satine grimaced at the speeder. Only the hands of cruel fate would hand her a speeder that ran out of fuel, stranding her in the middle of what appeared to be a jungle. Thick trees canopied the sky. The bustle of buzzes and rustles alerted creatures roaming the thick bushes. The air was thick and full that it was a struggle to give a good breath in. It was nothing like Mandalore.

As she weighed her options on what to do next, it seemed the only plausible choice was for her to carry on. To hightail it into the woods to escape any personnel who hunted her. Satine wasn’t naïve to think the Sith wouldn’t send out the troops to collect her. Give them an hour and she would hear the roars of other speederbikes making their approach.

With a regretful sigh, Satine abandoned her speederbike and took off into the woods. She obviously needed a new plan. She blamed Obi-Wan for this madness! It was his plan that got her sprinting through the dark woods in an oversized military uniform. He should be with her. This was his plan, after all. He should be here, holding her hand and leading them through the thicket of the jungle. Instead, he had to be his normal, self-sacrificing buffoon!

Satine came up to a cliff, letting out a soft shriek as she clung to a tree limb to stop her from timbering over the edge. Taking a deep breath, she recomposed herself. She was Mandalorian. The  _Duchess_ of Mandalore. She could survive a night in the jungle. She’s survived through a lot worse and came out alive.

She followed the cliff’s edge, hoping that it may give her a view of a town or city. Anything with lights would do. As she maneuvered over uprooted roots of the towering trees, she kept an eye out for civilization and an ear out for sounds of engines.

She descended down the cliff, the pants chaffing her thigh as she attempted to walk in a manner that would lessen the burn. It didn’t help. She stumbled. Her hand snatched out, hoping to grab anything to stop her tumble. Fingers brushed the heads of bushes, but it slipped and she fell forward, somersaulting down the hill. Sticks, rocks and unknown objects poke, prodded and stabbed her as she tumbled down the hill.

The hill seemed never-ending until she flopped hard on dirt ground. Groaning and aching all over, she stiffly raised her neck. Her eyes distorted, seeing double. It took a couple of seconds for it all to come together. Yet, she thought she was still seeing the stars when the light in the distance did not fade. The speck of gold between the trees continued to glow.

Hope flared in her chest. Heart quickening, she scampered to her feet, ignoring the inflammation in her ankle. She hobbled through the thicket, listening carefully for any sounds of voices or engines. But all was quiet. She stealthily approached the edge of the tree line, hiding behind a massive foliage. She pushed back the stems of the bush to peer out.

It was a small establishment. A tiny cottage with a storage barn in the back. The porch light was lit. The beacon that brought her to the premise. She surveyed the layout, tip-toeing to the side of the cottage. She heard a harsh voice coming from the cottage as she slinked by. She came to the window and, carefully, peaked through the window.

A man of a certain age stood with his back to her, talking to a holo-image of a surly character. Heated words were exchange, but Satine only made out a few words from the argument.

“I do most… you are being… the work we… we’re on lockdown… yeah my ship can…”

Ship? Satine dropped down, biting down her lower lip in though. She looked back to the barn. It looked large enough to house a ship. Satine crawled away, careful to not make a sound as she slipped away to the barn. Walking across the ground in silent steps, she entered the dark barn through the sliding door. She saw nothing at first. Her hand skimmed the walls searching for a switch. It took her a moment before locating the switch. She turned it on and the barn lit up, revealing a small cargo ship.

And crates upon crates of spice. All types of spice. Blue spice. Red spice. Yellow spice. Grey spice. Almost every brand of spice was found in the crates that littered around the ship.

Satine gaped at the amount of illegal substance. Her mind wired, connecting the pieces together. The owner was a smuggler! That meant…

Pounding of footsteps coming from outside alerted Satine of approaching danger. She swore upon her mistake of turning on the light as she hurried from one spot to the next trying to find a good hiding place. It wouldn’t be until the very last moment that she had to dive behind a crate that was half hidden by the shadows. The door to the barn burst opened and Satine ducked her head behind the crate.

Her heart hammered. Lungs expanding in great need of air, but she kept her mouth closed to conceal her placement. Light footsteps roamed the barn, scuffling of dirt being kicked about as the smuggler searched the confines.

“Who here?” came the gnarling voice. “Show ye self! Come on! Show it!”

Satine curled her knees to her chest. She balled herself up as the man drew closer to her hideaway. She could hear the man’s hack his way towards her. Only a few minutes remained before the smuggler spotted her and she did not expect the confrontation to be welcoming.

She stared down at her blaster. It was her only option to spare her from the smuggler’s rage. She took the blaster out and clasped it in her sweaty palms. As she crouched in wait, all she could think about was how much she hated herself at the very moment. She was going to take a life. Against everything she ever stood for.

This was Obi-Wan’s fault! If he was here, he could easily use his power to trick the man into going away or… or  _something_! Anything rather than taking a life. Instead, he forced her to leave on her own with only a blaster as her protector.

It should have been him! Obi-Wan should be here. With her. Promising he could talk their way out of this situation. He should be here! Why was he not here? He had to play the hero. He  _needed_ to play hero for her and now she was alone and scared and hating herself.

Screeches of crates moving aside promised a reveal soon. Taking a deep breath, Satine repeatedly encouraged herself to do what was needed for survival. She clasp the blaster in her hands. They shook, but there was nothing she could do about that. The smuggler’s stretched shadow got shorter and fatter. Coming closer and closer, she muttered a Mandalorian prayer, asking forgiveness and spiting herself for doing something regrettable.

She wished she never had to fire the blaster.

Her crate was shoved aside and the smuggler loomed over her. An ugly scar carved up on the side of his face, grey eyes aflame with blue fire as he glared down at her. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “What ye doin’?”

Satine jumped to her feet and aimed the blaster at him. “I’ll shoot!”

The smuggler flitted from the blaster back to Satine. He laughed. “Ye are na goin’ to shoot. Give it here? Give it girl?”

Satine’s knees trembled as the smuggler came upon her. “I said I’ll shoot.”

“Then shoot,” challenged the smuggler with a cold, cruel laugh.

Satine put her finger on the trigger, but she never pulled. In the face of danger, she could not convince herself to take the man’s life. She couldn’t. And the smuggler knew it. He charged at her, wrenching the blaster from her.

When his grubby hands grabbed the blaster, Satine reacted entirely different than what she thought. She gripped the blaster tight, refusing to budge. The smuggler snarled at her reluctance to give up the weapon.

“Ye bitch!” the smuggler snarled. He jerked the blaster and shoved his elbow into Satine’s face to throw her off. “Ye gonna—”

The sound of a bolt zapping through the scuffle stopped everything. Satine’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes fluttered down. There was no smoking hole in her stomach. She didn’t expect one to be. She did, however, expect one in the smuggler’s stomach. Yet, to her genuine surprise there wasn’t a single singe in the man’s shirt.

She flipped her terrified gaze back up to the smuggler’s face. Shock froze his face. Eyes wide and uncomprehending. His fingers slipped off the blaster and he tipped back, rocking on his feet. His mouth hung open. All of his previous words left ghosted on his lips. He finally tipped too far back and he timbered down, crashing into the crates of spice that puffed up in the air in clouds of red, blue and grey.

The smuggler was out cold.

Satine stood by herself for a long moment. The blaster remained clutch in her hand. Her arms were not shaking. They were steady. Even her knees no longer wobbled. She looked from the smuggler to the blaster, turning the cursed weapon over in her hand.

She read the fine print on the side and a sigh of great relief escaped her lips. “Stun?” she uttered as her heart slowed to a decrescendo. “It’s set for stun.”

With that knowledge, her hands shook again, the adrenaline and fear washing off her as she wiped her sweaty palms against her baggy uniform. She put the weapon back in its sheath, maneuvering around the tossed crates and doing her best to not inhale the surrounding spice. She paused beside the unconscious smuggler.

“I’m so sorry,” Satine murmured. “I really am.”

Knowing he would not respond, she turned away and ran to the ship. She boarded and made her way to the cockpit. As a Mandalorian royal, she never had to pilot. Others did it for her. But she knew how to pilot. Her father instructed her when she was young. She programed the ship, the control panel coming to life in an array of different colors. The engine moaned, awakening from its long nap.

Satine searched the control board. A smuggler prided on their ship. If their ship wasn’t good, then they wouldn’t have any business. And by the amount of spice the man contained, Satine bet credits that his ship was remarkable enough. Meaning the ship must be either fast or have a concealment factor to it.

Studying the control panel, Satine moved down the rows of switches and buttons until she came across the exact one she needed. A smile spread across her face. The ship had a concealment technique needed to hide in the night of cover.

She hit the controls, bringing the ship to a thunderous rumble. Satine closed the ramp, locking the doors and turning off the anti-gravs. She took the steering wheel as the ship inched forward to the wide opening. Careful to not his the barn and knock it into splinters, Satine piloted it into the open.

Satine brought the ship above the trees, hoovering of the panoply of green. Satine saw the vast midnight sky and knew it was now or never. She reached over and flipped the switch. The ship vibrated and Satine noticed the change in front of her. The viewport tinted and Satine knew then that the concealment worked.

Deep breath, she told herself as she steer the invisible ship to the skies. More stars twinkled in welcome, dazzling her with promise of freedom. She looked through the viewport. Glancing backwards, she spotted the tall spires of Serenno’s palace.

Obi-Wan. He was still there. Trapped with madmen!

Her hands turned the wheel, redirecting the nose of the ship in the direction of the palace when Obi-Wan’s voice echoed in her ears. His pleas for her to run to safety. To do one’s duty. She was a Duchess. And he was a Jedi. Their paths were always going to diverge. Even now. Her heart yearned to save him, but her mind knew better. She could not save him by crashing the ship into the palace. It only ended in destruction and death. Nothing good would happen.

She turned away from the palace. Eyes watering as she redirected to the stars, calming her erratic heart with promises that she would see him again. It was all the hope she could hold onto as she concentrated on escaping out of Serenno, keeping her oath to Obi-Wan that she would escape.

Deep breaths, Satine reminded herself again. It’s only for a moment. That’s all.


	37. Table Manners

Obi-Wan woke first.

Sometime in the night, they had both fallen asleep. Anakin used Obi-Wan’s arm as a pillow, snuggled close to keep warm and breathing deep. Obi-Wan was never a heavy sleeper like Anakin. He couldn't be. Not with Sith Lords, Jedi and bounty hunters hunting them down. He always kept alert in the Force, which kept them safe for so many years. So, when he sensed a stirring, he snapped his eyes opened.

The door hissed and a stream of droids entered their room. Fully armed.

Obi-Wan quickly sat up, his arm slipped over Anakin to shield the boy from the droids. It did little as Anakin awoke at the disturbance. His hair was a matted mess, eyes disoriented from the rude awakening from the arrival of a squad of droids. He looked from the door to Obi-Wan, rubbing the last bits of sleepiness away.

“What’s going on?” Anakin mumbled.

“I have no idea,” Obi-Wan honestly replied as the last bit of droids entered the room, parting a path. “Stay here.”

He pushed Anakin back into the bed, pulling the blankets over to cover Anakin. Obi-Wan stepped around the bed, taking a stand. He faced down the droids. He eyed them one by one, calculating different scenarios and deciding on the best course of action he needed to take to keep Anakin safe.

He may not have his lightsaber, but the Force was his ally.

The droids didn’t do anything. They stood at attention, ready for command, yet no command was given. It would be another tense second before a human figure swept in between the droids, dressed in the Serenno manservant clothes. Simple and plain clothes, but relatively polished compared to other servants around the planet. Cleaned and properly groomed, the manservant walked further into the room, coming to an immediate halt in front of Obi-Wan.

The manservant gave a generous bow. “Lord Kenobi,” he said, voice clear. “I have come to escort you and Lord Skywalker to breakfast.”

Obi-Wan raised a brow, eyes sliding from the manservant to the droids. “Are you sure?”

The manservant followed Obi-Wan’s gaze. “The droids are for security purposes only, my Lord. They are here for your protection.”

More like enforcement. “It’s a bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” he said to the manservant. “Are we expected to be assassinated between here and the dining room?”

The manservant’s eyes enlarged. “Oh… no, my Lord!” he quickly assured him. “No! Count Dooku and Lord Jinn only wish for yours and young Lord Skywalker’s safety.”

That didn’t make it any better. A squeak from behind informed Obi-Wan that Anakin had crawled up to the end of the bed. “We can take care of ourselves,” Anakin retaliated. “Right, Obi-Wan?”

Of course they could. They have been for the past seven years. Up to this very moment. “Agreed,” Obi-Wan answered to Anakin before returning back to the manservant. “I am confused on your position. Why are you here? Usually they just send droids. Why you?”

“Lord Jinn believes my presence would help lessen the boy’s anxieties,” the manservant explained. “A friendly face. Not just droids.”

A friendly face? The manservant’s face wasn’t kind nor interesting. Dull and plain and straight. Obi-Wan would have thought of him to be a droid if it wasn’t for his flesh and the small Force presence surrounding him. “So… you’re supposed to be—” Obi-Wan left hanging for the manservant to answer.

The manservant promptly answered. “I’m in charge of his well-being, essentially, Lord Kenobi,” he said. “The name is Abel, but many call me Abe.”

Obi-Wan raised a challenging brow. A deep frown weighed his mouth down. Anakin already had a caretaker. He had no need for another. And no amount of droids could persuade Obi-Wan to back down.

“It’s good to meet you Abe,” Obi-Wan answered, doing his best to keep his riling emotions in check, “but your presence is not necessary. I take care of Anakin.”

Abe didn’t miss a beat. “I do not doubt your competency on the matter, my Lord,” he replied. “I am only following my orders. Count Dooku and Lord Jinn requested me to be Lord Skywalker’s manservant to ensure the young master’s healthy development.”

“I don’t need a servant!” came Anakin’s charging voice. Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder to see Anakin crouched at the end of the bed, gripping the bed’s back ends with pinched fingers. A dark scowl shaded Anakin’s face as he glared at Abe, untrusting and menacing. “I don’t want you! I have Obi-Wan!”

Abe had no reaction to Anakin. “I do as I am told, Lord Skywalker,” said Abe, indifferent on the matter. “I am instructed to care for you.”

“I don’t want you!” Anakin jumped off the bed and marched up beside Obi-Wan. “I don’t _need_ you!”

Again, Abe looked on apathetically at them. “That is not your decision,” Abe said, pointedly. “Count Dooku and Lord Jinn issued the order. If you have a question, bring it to them.”

He turned away from Obi-Wan and Anakin, snapping for attention from someone just outside the door. A dressing cart wheeled into the room, directed by another servant. It stopped right in front of them.

Abe scanned the rack of clothes. He pulled out a variety of clothes, examining them before settling on a grey-blue cloth. “I believe these will fit young master Skywalker well,” he decided, hanging them up on a hook near the refresher.

Anakin curled his nose in disgust, crossing his arms as he drew nearer to Obi-Wan. Abe returned to the other servant, who handed him another outfit, folded and pressed neatly, into his hands.

Abe passed the clothes to Obi-Wan. “Count Dooku and Lord Jinn ordered this specifically for you, Lord Kenobi,” he said. “They advise you wear it.”

Obi-Wan took a single glance at the clothes. Based on his brief observation, they clothes were of military style. It was unfortunate that Obi-Wan had no other clothes than the wrinkled ones on his back. If he did, it would be easy to refuse the uniform. But, it was all that was offered and his choice was to either refuse and start a pointless battle, or accept and carry on.

Obi-Wan took the uniform. “I’m sure they did,” he grumbled, feeling the stiff fabric of the black uniform. He only imagined that the uniform was meant to make him more intimidating. One must look the part of a Sith to become one.

Obi-Wan dipped his gaze to Anakin. “Anakin? Why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested. “Get clean up and ready for the day.”

He noticed Anakin’s defiance flaring up in those eyes. Not against him, but against the whole situation. Obi-Wan worried he may need to repeat it, but Anakin begrudging stomped to the refresher.

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan heard the shower run. Realizing there was no private place to change, Obi-Wan began to strip where he stood. He removed his tunic first, switching out the blue silk for a cotton tunic. He dressed quickly and unbashful in front of the droids and Abe. Once he got the robe fitted, he looked down at himself.

The military garment made him look smaller. It was nicely tailored and the black and grey cut smartly on him. He stood rigid on spot. The uniform was stiff and hard, making it impossible to feel relaxed or even comfortable. The material itself was like another form of prison.

Abe thought differently. “It favors you, Lord Kenobi,” he complimented. “Respectable. Dependable.”

Obi-Wan adjusted the sleeves. “Perhaps, but I do not favor it.”

“It takes time to get used to such cloth,” Abe reassured him. “In time, you won’t notice.”

Obi-Wan hoped he wouldn’t be spared that amount of time to do so. He fixed the sleeves just as the shower stopped. Obi-Wan heard the refresher door opened and watched Abe’s face fall into despondency.

"You're wearing your old clothes," Abe observed. 

Obi-Wan stopped messing with his jacket and turned to look to Anakin. The boy was clean, wet hair clinging to his scalp, but he fitted himself back into the clothes the Jedi provided him. Streaks of dirt slashed across tunics and tears were visible on his leggings from where it got hooked on some foreign object. It looked like he came from outside, spending the time rolling in the gardens. Probably not too far off point considering he fought in the Temple's garden before being captured. 

Anakin peevishly looked at Abe. "I'm wearing _my_ _clothes_ ," he corrected. "I'm not playing dress-up."

Abe was affronted by the refusal. "You cannot wear those! This is a palace! Serenno's royal family resides here and will not tolerate tattered appearances," he scolded. "Change into the proper attire."

It was clear that Abe never dealt with children before. His abrasive demand only encouraged Anakin to stand his ground. The young boy dropped his hands on his hips, eyes glaring up in challenge. He didn't have to say anything to convey his opinion on the direct command.

That irked Abe. Not well-equipped on handling rejection from anyone, especially a child. He took the clothes and passed them to Anakin.

Anakin merely curled his nose at the fabric. "I'm not changing."

"Yes you will."

"No I won't! I don't have to do anything I don’t want to do."

Abe grew tiresome and decided on a different course of action. Obi-Wan sensed his intention and grabbed the man's shoulder, effectively freezing him. Obi-Wan gave Abe a single look and the manservant stepped back and lowered his chin, apologetic for rising to his temper He shuffled backwards, giving Obi-Wan some minor privacy.

Obi-Wan turned away from Abe to Anakin. "He's right, Anakin. You can't wear that."

"Why not?" whined Anakin. "I don't want to play by their rules."

"Nor do I," Obi-Wan said, crouching down to Anakin's level. "Anakin—this isn't like the Temple. We need to choose our battles wisely."

Anakin pursed his lips into a pout. "But I don't wanna—"

"I know. I know," Obi-Wan murmured. "I don't either, but this is not a battle worth fighting." He took the clothes from the Abe. "Take these clothes and change."

Anakin's shoulders sagged in utter defeat before grabbing the clothes and dragging his feet to the refresher to change. When the door closed, Abe ruffled. "He's quite the intractable child."

Obi-Wan's jaw hardened. "No, Abe," he said. "You simply do not know anything about younglings."

Shortly after, the door whipped open and Anakin stomped out, wearing the sleek grey-blue colored clothes befitting a young gentleman. For the first time, Anakin Skywalker didn't look like the child he was. And it was a sting to Obi-Wan's heart knowing that being here would be the end of Anakin's innocence. Not that he ever got the chance to be innocent in the first place, but Obi-Wan understood that far worse hardships would be upon them to destroy Anakin's compassion and hope.

Not wanting to dwell further, Obi-Wan distracted himself with a question. "Are they comfortable?" he asked to Anakin.

Anakin nodded. "Yeah... I hate them."

That drew out a low chuckle. "Grey isn't your color," Obi-Wan agreed. "Come on... let's get this over with."

* * *

Upon arrival, Obi-Wan sighed in relief. Neither Dooku nor Qui-Gon sat at the table. It was just them for now. Obi-Wan took his usual seat on the left side of the head of the table. Anakin sat in the chair next to him. The moment they sat down, a service droid zoomed straight to them, asking what they wanted to drink. Obi-Wan ordered tea and Anakin only asked for water. The service droid wheeled out, and Anakin and Obi-Wan were alone... minus the Magnaguards. 

Anakin stayed unusually quiet. Obi-Wan noticed how Anakin scanned the room, scrutinizing every detail just as he was trained. He was looking for exits, finding the quickest route to escape if necessary or find a weapon that could be used to defend himself. Many calculations were going through Anakin's little head that he paid no heed to the droid when it returned with his water. Obi-Wan accepted it on his behalf and placed it in front of the boy.

"Drink," Obi-Wan said, bringing Anakin out of his thoughts. "You'll need to stay hydrated."

Anakin took a few tiny sips, but no more. "What's the plan?" he whispered as to not be overheard. "You do have a plan, right?"

Not a plan Anakin wanted. Obi-Wan's main objective was to keep Anakin safe. Protect him as much as possible until an opportunity arose for them to escape. Currently, the opportunity had yet to present itself. 

"Follow my lead and don't engage," Obi-Wan instructed. Anakin had yet to learn the fine art of self-control. His emotions get carried away at times. "Say nothing if possible."

"But then what?" Anakin pressed on. "Are we going to fight?"

Fighting against two Sith and an army of droids would end in catastrophe. Last night was a good reminder. Fighting out was not an option. At least, not two against a whole army. Their best bet was to escape, but even that plan had a narrow margin for success. Obi-Wan admitted he got lucky last time he escaped with Anakin from Serenno. The cover of night combined with the Siths’ arrogance helped him escape captivity all those years ago. He doubted Qui-Gon or Dooku would make the same mistake as last time.

“Not at the moment,” Obi-Wan answered. He took a small sip of his tea. “We must be careful, Anakin. Anything we say or do can result in suffering.”

Anakin blew out a rush of hot air. “So… we’re just not going to do anything?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Anakin whined. “How are we going to get out of here?”

Anakin made it sound as if escaping from Serenno was as simple and easy as their previous escapades. Little did the boy know of the extensive security measures Dooku and Qui-Gon have taken to ensure it could never happen again. Obi-Wan was aware that escaping was going to take time and a lot of planning. Not a last, quick-minute job like he did when Anakin was a toddler.

“In time, we’ll—”

Obi-Wan was cut off by a sweeping sound of a door opening and a gleeful cheer.

"Obi-Wan!" Joline exclaimed as she swung through the door, pulling a loaded cart behind her. A sweet and warm aroma wafted through the room as Joline directed the cart of food beside him.

Joline radiated both outwardly and in the Force. She was a bright light in a dimmed home, always smiling and cheerful. Nothing hardly ever got her down. She beamed at Obi-Wan as she gestured to the cart of food. "As promised, I brought all your favorites. Hotcakes, sausages, scones and... wait, is that... is that little Anakin?"

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at Anakin, who stared questionably at Joline while determining if she was a threat or not. Obi-Wan reassured him through their bond, relaxing the boy a little as Joline bounded over. With a wide grin, she leaned over, hands on knees, to get a better look at Anakin.

"Oh my! You have certainly grown!" Joline commented, her eyes hungrily trailed over Anakin's face. "Last I saw you, you were such a small thing. Crying your eyes out."

Anakin had no memory of her. He scooted to the edge of his seat, away from Joline. He hunched, growing smaller as he warily flickered from Joline to Obi-Wan. He was not used to Joline's extroverted behaviors and the pleading in his eyes sought Obi-Wan's help in the matter. 

Obi-Wan placed a hand on Joline. "I'm afraid Anakin has no memory of you, Jo," he explained, reeling Joline away from Anakin to give him space. "You're going to have to tone it down."

Joline let out a huff that was short of a chuckle. "Of course! I'm sorry little one," she apologized to Anakin. "You were only a toddler when I last saw you.

"I still cannot believe it," Joline said, smile exuberantly to the point it should have cut her face in half. "My boys are home!"

Anakin's face burned, a scowl grinding. "This isn't my home!"

For his first words to Joline, it shocked her straight to silence. The smile vanished. The joyous bounce of hers stilled. All that was left were her round eyes upon Anakin in mixture of great horror and uneasiness. She tried to return her smile, but it kept slipping as she digested Anakin's words and the stubborn tone he used. It wasn't something she was quite used to. 

But she attempted to put her own little spin to it. She patted Anakin on the head as a means to docile him. "I know little one," she murmured. "It's not home to you now, but given time, it will be."

Anakin's disbelief was a mixture of doubt and horror at the prospect of this prison being his home forever. He looked around at the rich decor, noting it with thinly veiled disgust. "No, it won't," he retaliated, standing up from his seat. "This will never be my home."

If there is one thing that Anakin was good at it was standing his ground. If he put his mind to something, nothing could get in his way (unless Obi-Wan disapproved). Too stubborn to be pushed around to follow anyone's rules. At times, even Obi-Wan found it difficult to restrain Anakin's more obdurate attributes. And at the moment, Obi-Wan knew Anakin's fiery heart pulsed in a rage that could not be tempered with quick words. 

Obi-Wan nudged Anakin. "Sit and eat, Anakin," he said, reaching for one of the items on the cart. "Here—you’ll like this scone.”

“I don’t want a scone,” Anakin cried, his face tinting crimson. “I don’t want to be here!”

It was a childish rant and was beneath Anakin. Obi-Wan raised him better, but his distress of the situation brought a suffering that could not be remedy so quickly. After watching someone die, having to fight for his life and then end up in a prison controlled by the Sith would wreck anyone emotionally. And Anakin was only a boy. All the life and death stress did him no favors. Unable to contain it, he took it out, releasing it improperly and shouting at everyone near him. Or in this case, Joline and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan took Anakin but the shoulder and plopped him down in his seat. “Give us a minute, Jo.”

Joline, somber, nodded. “I’ll come back with the rest of the food,” she said, before hurrying out the side door that led straight to the kitchens.

Once she was gone, Obi-Wan turned back to his stubborn ward. “You need to control your anger better, Anakin,” he started. “There is no need for such outbursts. It won’t change our circumstances.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t want to play along,” Anakin argued. “I’m not going to act like everything is fine when it’s not.”

“I’m not asking you to accept the situation,” Obi-Wan said for even he would never accept the situation. But his previous life living under their roof taught him a lot about knowing when to revolt and when not to. “I’m asking you to think about your actions and their consequences. This isn’t the Temple. You can’t get away with that type of behavior with the Sith.”

Anakin fumed as heckles rose up on his skin. “So what? We’re just going to go along with everything? Act like it’s all normal? We’re not even going to try to fight?”

“No—like I said,” Obi-Wan vehemently repeated. “We have to choose our defiance wisely. We cannot start fights which hold nothing of value. It would be pointless to do so otherwise.”

Anakin pouted, but Obi-Wan saw the dwindling of submission to his reasoning. The boy sighed frustratingly, slumping in his seat as he scratched at his collarbone. “Fine,” he grunted. “I won’t say anything.”

Obi-Wan happy to agree to Anakin’s offer. “I’ll do all the talking. You just enjoy the meal,” he said, checking out the spread Joline brought in for them. “As I said before you need to try the scone. Jo is a good baker. You’ll like it.”

He put a scone on Anakin’s plate as Anakin scooted up to the table. He shifted his gaze from Obi-Wan to the scone, eyebrows knitted in caution. He never had a scone before and he raised it to his mouth. He took a small bite. A few nibbles later, a soft smile relaxed his face as he took a bigger bite the next time.

Happy enough to see Anakin greedily eat into the food, Obi-Wan reclined in his seat, meagerly touching his food. Anakin was right in that they could not keep playing along to their whims. They needed to take a stand, but first Obi-Wan needed to survey the situation. Once the four of them were in the room, Obi-Wan would analyze the situation to come up a better solution to their predicament.

Until then, one must enjoy the peace and quiet.

The side door opened again and Joline returned with a new cart of fresh baked bread, fruits and the smell of sweet cinnamon treats. She unloaded the food onto the table, looking between Obi-Wan and Anakin. She quietly smiled at Anakin as he chomped down on another scone, crumbs breading the corner of his lips.

“I see you got him to eat,” Joline said to Obi-Wan.

“Eating is not the hard part,” Obi-Wan said. “I apologize for his behavior. He was scared. He didn’t mean to—”

“There is no need to apologize, Obi-Wan,” Joline reassured him, rubbing the back of his shoulder. “I understand. I really do. Don’t forget—I remember last time.”

Of course she did. How often did she find him as a teenager, hiding away from Dooku and Qui-Gon down in the kitchens? Too often for her to know that something wasn’t right in the floors above her work station. She must have seen the scars or the hurt in his eyes. She never said anything about them to him. Only offered some sort of sweet indulgence to him. She was the kindest person in the palace and at times, Obi-Wan’s only friend when he was living in the palace seven years ago.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan muttered at the recall of memories. He diverted his attention to the spread, surprised by the amount Joline made for them. “You may have gone a little overboard with the food,” he remarked. “I don’t think we will be able to eat all of this.”

“I’m not worried,” Joline gave a sly smile as she nudged her head to Anakin, who was shoving sausages into his mouth. “I have great faith in my boys.”

Obi-Wan cracked a half-grin at Joline’s tease. Before he make his own quip, the front door opened and all the warmth vanished. A chill rushed into the room, frosting everything inch with black dread. Anakin stopped eating and whipped his head to the front doors. Obi-Wan did as well.

Dooku and Qui-Gon finally arrived.

And Dooku was displeased. "Joline," his steel-like voice sliced through the tense silence. "Must I need to remind you of your place?"

Joline's smile vanished instantly. "No, my Lord."

Without another word, she disappeared behind the doors, abandoning Obi-Wan and Anakin to the shadows. Obi-Wan used the Force to draw Anakin's chair closer to his own as Dooku stared down at them from his leering height.

Dark orbs zeroed in on Anakin. His oily presence cutting into Anakin’s Force shield left the boy cringing in discomfort. Obi-Wan threw up his own shield around Anakin, sparing the boy from further distress.

Dooku switched his focus to Obi-Wan. “Stand up, Kenobi,” he ordered.

Obi-Wan flicked a quick peek at Qui-Gon. His former master said nothing. He watched from the doorway, more relaxed than anything. Obi-Wan felt the opposite. He obliged to Dooku’s whims and pushed the chair back, his heart sinking to his stomach.

Once Obi-Wan rose to his full height, Dooku reviewed him critically. To say it was disconcerting would be an understatement. Dooku’s piercing stare dissected him not only through the lens of his eyes, but through the Force. He felt the man’s shiv slice through his shielding, diving right into his innermost feelings and memories, raging through them to sift out what was useful to him. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, restraining Dooku’s access to his memories as best he could, but the Sith Lord took great pleasure in stomping him down.

It wasn’t until Obi-Wan nearly collapsed that Dooku rescinded. “Fits well enough, but somewhat baggy in certain areas,” Dooku gestured to the uniform. “Still too thin to be considered commanding.”

Obi-Wan crinkled his brows at that. What did he mean by _commanding_?

“That can be remedied,” Qui-Gon spoke up for the first time. “TC-11 is monitoring his health and Joline—” He gestured to the big spread of food on the table, “is ensuring they’ll regain the weight.”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan a little longer before acquiescing. “Very well,” Dooku said. “Obi-Wan—sit across the table.”

Obi-Wan always sat on the left side of the table. He never sat on the right side. His hesitation was noted and Dooku firmly repeated again. “Take your seat across the table.”

With no other choice, Obi-Wan removed himself from his previous seat and walked to move around to the other side of the table. Except, something snagged onto his jacket, preventing him from following orders. He stopped and twisted, spying Anakin’s pleading face and his small hand clutching onto the edges of Obi-Wan’s jacket.

“Don’t!” Anakin called out, fear welling in those blue eyes.

Obi-Wan retreated to Anakin, bending down to whisper to Anakin privately. “It’ll be okay, Anakin. I promise,” he assured him. “I’ll only be on the other side.”

Anakin shook his head and Obi-Wan witnessed a flutter of images run along their bond. Pictures of him in a variety of a bloody mess.

Obi-Wan removed those thoughts and squatted down beside Anakin. “I’m still here, Anakin,” he reminded him. “I’m not going away. I promise. You’re safe.”

With great care, he removed Anakin’s fingers from his jacket. The boy’s round eyes watched, desperate and anxious all at once. Obi-Wan smiled, hoping it conveyed a sense of security to the boy. Sometimes, all Obi-Wan had to do was smile and it was enough for Anakin.

Not this time. Anakin sat rigid in his seat. A bundle of nerves uncertain and ready to act out.

“It’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan said one more time. “Remember what I told you.”

Anakin stiffly nodded, but he didn’t confirm with words. Obi-Wan didn’t need him to. He trusted Anakin to follow through on his promise. He patted Anakin on the shoulder and took his leave, rounding the corner to sit on the other side of the table. He chose the seat directly across from Anakin, just as Dooku signaled one of the droids to rearrange the seating on Anakin’s side.

The droid removed Obi-Wan’s old seat. Its mechanical arm latched onto Anakin’s own chair, dragging it to replace Obi-Wan’s old seat. Anakin gripped the edges of his seat, spine straight as he was readjusted to his new position at the table.

Now, Obi-Wan sat across an empty space.

“You can sit down,” came a voice behind him.

Qui-Gon maneuvered to where Obi-Wan stood, sliding behind him to take the seat closest to where Dooku sat at the head of the table. As Qui-Gon pulled out his own seat and sat down, Obi-Wan did too. He sunk into the chair, sharing a look with Anakin as he reinforced the idea that everything was all right.

Dooku ordered his drink to the serving droid and sent it away before turning his attention fully to Anakin. “You clean up well,” he remarked, smoothing a napkin over his lap. “You no longer look like an urchin from the sewers.”

Obi-Wan sensed the licking of a flame within Anakin. But Obi-Wan was quick to put it out. “It only takes a little bit of water,” he said, “and some soap.”

Dooku and Qui-Gon shifted their gaze to Obi-Wan. A resonating warning drilled into his mind. “And yet the Jedi could not provide it to him,” said Dooku. “I know the Order prefers to shed all material wealth, but one would think hygiene to be of importance.” Dooku piled some fruit on his plate. “You will find this place more accommodating to your needs than the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared at the slight against the Order. He readied to retort Dooku’s claims when Qui-Gon touched his arm, reeling him back to focus. A sign of caution as to not provoke Dooku. Obi-Wan swallowed his words back down his throat and breathed, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he did so.

Qui-Gon removed his hand from Obi-Wan’s arm. He lifted up his glass of water, eyes gazing over the rims and onto Anakin. He took a drink, wetting his lips and throat. “You probably have no memory of this place or me for that matter,” Qui-Gon said as he lowered his glass. “Let me properly introduce myself. I’m Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan’s master.”

Anakin darted his eyes from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. But he kept to his word and didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Qui-Gon noticed the silence. “I’m sure Obi-Wan didn’t speak very highly of us to you,” he said, passing a side-glance to Obi-Wan. “But, he speaks fondly of you. Praises you on your achievements. A mechanical genius and an exceptional pilot. Those are good skills to have in this day of age.”

Again, Anakin said nothing.

“You do not need permission to speak, young one,” Qui-Gon tried to get Anakin to open up. “You are free to talk. Ask questions.”

Anakin only slid his eyes to Obi-Wan, a firm line scorned his face. Anakin had a lot to say to them. His jawline hardened from restraining the outburst perched on his tongue, barely keeping his promise to remain silent. Obi-Wan was thankful. Any outburst would result in trouble for Anakin and he appreciated that the boy kept his word. No need for Anakin to receive their special brand of punishment. As long as Anakin followed Obi-Wan’s lead, then he boy would be safe and maybe, he could get Anakin out before they were far too trapped in the cycle.

Qui-Gon looked surprised by Anakin’s reluctance to speak. “Do you not like to talk?”

“On the contrary, Qui-Gon, young Skywalker is quite vocal,” Dooku answered, chuckling as he brings a piece of fruit to his mouth. He chewed slowly, scrutinizing Obi-Wan and Anakin from his poised position. “I’m sure Kenobi advised him to not speak at all.”

Dooku took another bite of fruit. A smile played on his lips. “I see it is best I take advantage of the momentary silence to speak without any interruptions,” he said, placing down his silverware and scooting up properly in his seat. “Let’s proceed with the ground rules.

“First rule: You must obey myself and Qui-Gon at all times,” Dooku listed off. “We are your masters now and shall be addressed as such. Any rebellion from either of you will not be tolerated. This is your first and only warning.

“Second: you have free reign of the palace with the exception of all hangers, the front hall and the east wing. Found in any of those places and you will receive a punishment far beyond your imagination.”

Dooku redirected his venomous gaze to Obi-Wan. A warning that any more attempts would no longer be tolerated. With both in custody, security measurements would be stricter and punishment reinforced as to dissuade them from even thinking about running. In other words, do not step a toe out of line unless one wished it gone. 

Recognition of the noted warning, Dooku continued. "Third, you are banned from accessing and utilizing any weapons unless granted permission by either myself or Qui-Gon. I do not think I need to reiterate the importance of following the rule, do I?” Dooku’s gaze hinted a fervor, eyes glittering in expectation of submission from them. To bow and surrender to his might and rule.

And that expression alone snapped Obi-Wan’s resolve to withstand the demeaning treatment. "Why don't you just carbonite us?" Obi-Wan darkly muttered. "It would be a lot easier."

The second he spoke, a chilling dread wrapped around him. In such a precarious situation, he should have held his tongue. He looked over to Qui-Gon, who disappointingly shook his head. It was not a good start. And, it set a bad example to Anakin. Especially after he told Anakin to not let his emotions run rampant.

Already, the tentacles of Dooku's Force presence pressed against him, coiling up and squeezing little by little. Obi-Wan adjusted himself in his seat, but that did little to ease the pressure off him. Dooku's scolding glare hardly looked ready to release him. "The idea has crossed my mind on many occasions," he said in a controlled, steely voice. "But then neither of you would be very useful."

"We're not useful now."

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon reprimand, unable to remain a silent observer. A scowled screwed up his face, demonstrating his extreme disappointment.

Obi-Wan cared less, but the pressure against his chest made it difficult for him to voice that opinion. His attempts to throw Dooku off were futile. The Sith Lord strengthened his hold, the pressure building up against his chest that Obi-Wan wheezed in a breath in his attempt to draw in air to his lungs one last time.

Then a high-pitched cry reverberated around the room. “No! No! Leave him alone!” cried Anakin, launching out of his seat. His eyes were large and wide, drawing in shallow breaths alongside Obi-Wan. “Stop it! _You’re killing him_!”

Anakin wasn’t far from the truth. Obi-Wan’s life slipped further and further away. The light flickering out against the swarming black dots that ebbed his vision. Death wouldn’t claim him though. That much he knew. Dooku and Qui-Gon needed him alive and killing him would be counterproductive to their plans. All Dooku was doing was proving a point.

But Anakin didn’t know that. All he saw was Obi-Wan being strangled to death, struggling for air and knew he had to do something.

He did. Obi-Wan, in his blurry eyesight, witnessed Anakin use the Force to send all the dishes directly to Dooku. The Sith Lord spotted the bulleting ceramics. He released Obi-Wan and shielded himself from the plates and glasses that came speeding to him. Qui-Gon helped too. He rose from his seat, stretching his arm out to stop the dishes from reaching impact.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan collapsed back on the chair, hacking. But, he did not sit still to regain control of his lungs. Instead, he dove underneath the table, crawling as fast as he could to reach Anakin. As he expected he found Anakin crouched underneath the table too.

Obi-Wan grabbed for Anakin, pulling him to crawl to the doors. “Go! Go!” he hoarsely ordered Anakin.

Anakin didn’t need to be told again. He scurried down the long dining table, crawling as fast as his scrawny body could go. Obi-Wan trailed behind him, thinking of how everything went wrong. He was well aware it was his fault they were fleeing. It was his fault Anakin used the Force to attack Dooku. He set a bad example for Anakin and now they had to hurry to avoid paying a terrible price.

Yet, Obi-Wan knew they were never going to make it to the doors. Hopeful, but he knew the likelihood of achieving that goal was less than favorable. All he could do in the end was protect Anakin at all costs.

It came to no surprise when the table disappeared over their heads, the shelter gone and exposing their location. Obi-Wan wasted no time. He sprung to his feet, gathering Anakin in his arms as he backed to the furthest point away.

Anakin did his best to be brave, but the quickening heartbeat pulsing along the Force bonds vibrating was enough to alert Obi-Wan of Anakin’s fear. Still holding onto Anakin, Obi-Wan took stock of his surroundings. The once pristine dining room was a mess. Dishes shattered. Jagged ceramic pieces scattered here and there. Food smeared on the walls and floor while chairs were knocked off their legs and the table stood elsewhere, hiding some of the disorder.

Standing upright and bulging with anger, Dooku looked sharply at them. His yellow irises were like molten gold rings. Qui-Gon stood beside him, looking despondent at the two of them as if severely disappointed by the outcome of events.

Back when he was a boy, Obi-Wan would be frightful, anxiously cowering in hopes Dooku wouldn’t hurt him. But that was years ago. Obi-Wan aged and Dooku no longer held that same intimidating factor. That didn’t mean Obi-Wan didn’t have fear for the Sith Lord. Being unarmed and facing an unstable man who was clutching the hilt of a lightsaber was enough to make him sense a hint of fear. Especially with Anakin involved.

As the Sith Lords made their approach, Obi-Wan dropped Anakin and pushed the boy behind him. “It’s not his fault! It’s mine!” he declared to the Sith Lords and he looked to Qui-Gon. “He was only trying to protect me.”

While Qui-Gon looked sympathetic, Dooku did not. His eyes burned with revenge. “Then perhaps you should have thought of the consequences before you ran your mouth.”

Anakin forcibly poked his head out from behind Obi-Wan. Eyes small and mouth pressed into a thin line of rebuttal. “You’re a monster! A murderer!” he accused. “Go straight to Sith’s hell, sleemo!”

Dooku’s face burned, eyes flaring up again as the room chilled to a dark abyss. “Or better yet,” the Sith Lord haunted, “perhaps you should have taught your young charge better manners.”

Before Obi-Wan had a chance to prepare, a coil of the Force wrapped around him. It lifted him off his feet and threw him across the room. Obi-Wan crashed into one of the few remaining chairs. Tipped backwards, somersaulting onto the floor before being splayed over the broken dishes and ruined food. Head splitting, Obi-Wan blinked a few times to recapture his vision.

That’s when he heard Anakin’s voice call out to him. “Obi-Wan!”

Jolted, Obi-Wan jumped back to his feet, spotting Anakin trapped in the corner, pitted against two Sith Lords. Anakin looked between Dooku and Qui-Gon, directly to Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan charged, nearly leaping into the air to stand between Anakin and the Sith. Only his leap plummeted to the ground as two iron hands snared him, dragging him back down to the floor. Obi-Wan struggled in his binds, twisting his wrists and shoving his elbows upward to throw off the droids’ grips.

Obi-Wan resisted the restraints. He kicked, pulled and lunged. All in the effort to reach Anakin, who was trapped as rivulets of tears went down his cheek. 

“No… no…” Anakin whimpered as a droid approached and snatched his arm, yanking him up. 

Obi-Wan snapped his head to Dooku and Qui-Gon, both indifferent to the scene. “Don’t do this!” he shouted to them. “ _Please_! He didn’t mean to.”

Both Sith Lords furtively glanced in Obi-Wan’s direction. Only Dooku sneered at him. “No one ever means to,” he barbed. “Think of this as a learning experience. A lesson on obedience that you thoroughly failed to instill in the boy.”

Obi-Wan tugged on his arms, desiring nothing more than to wrap his own hands around Dooku’s throat. But his own droids held firm, their grip tight enough to shatter his bones. 

He looked to Qui-Gon. His last hope. “Qui-Gon!” he called out to his former master. He saw the Sith Lord’s eyes blink upon recognition of his name. But nothing more. Obi-Wan tried again. “Master!”

And that certainly got Qui-Gon’s attention. The Sith Lord turned, staring down at him in mild surprise by the title. Obi-Wan dropped to his knees, his arms angled awkwardly and painfully due to the droids still locked on him. 

“Please! Don’t do this,” Obi-Wan begged. “Don’t… he’s only a boy!”

Qui-Gon sighed, plucking at the ends of his beard. He took one look at Anakin, weighing the options. A spark of hope burned in Obi-Wan’s heart as Qui-Gon took consideration. A possible break-through? Obi-Wan hoped so because he could not bear to allow Anakin go through that torture. 

A long, drawn sigh slipped passed Qui-Gon’s lips as he turned back around to Obi-Wan. “I wish I could,” he said and Obi-Wan’s heart sank, “but Anakin needs to learn discipline.”

Obi-Wan gaped, stupefied and horrified by the answer. Qui-Gon’s attitude on such barbaric upbringing had changed dramatically. “No… no… no,” Obi-Wan jumped back on his feet. He was going have to battle his way to Anakin on his own.

Qui-Gon sensed this attempt and blocked him. “Stop this now, Obi-Wan,” he whispered the warning. “Or else you too will suffer the same fate.”

Obi-Wan jutted his chin and peered defiantly at Qui-Gon. “I already do.”

The droid lifted Anakin’s tunic up, exposing his back. Obi-Wan saw the spine curve as Anakin wiggled for freedom. The droid secured him well for Anakin couldn’t break from the grasp. Another droid stepped up and Dooku gave him the appropriate signal.

The droid unraveled an electro-whip. The yellow rope dangling in wait to smack across warm flesh. The droid brought back its arm. The electro-whip in the air, ready for the beginning strike.

Obi-Wan pressed forward, reaching through the Force to stop the droid from harming Anakin. He grab to telekinetically throw an object was prevented by Qui-Gon, who stepped in Obi-Wan’s line of sight and blurred his connection with the Force by barging Obi-Wan with random thoughts through their meager Force bond. It split Obi-Wan’s head open, a dull ache pulsing right in the center of his head, throwing his senses off.

He tried to refocus, gather back his strength and fight back, but the whizzing sound of an object flying through the air caught him off-guard. The whip cracked and snapped on flesh. A single scream broke the silence.

Obi-Wan jolted, throwing his head back and putting up his best resistance to get to Anakin. The droids held him back, keeping a firm grip that leashed him. He couldn’t get anywhere and Qui-Gon blocked most of the punishment from him. But it did nothing to hide the horrors. Obi-Wan still heard Anakin’s sobs and whimpers. A blubber of mercies followed only to be silenced by another whip. Through the Force Obi-Wan witnessed Anakin hunched, curling in on himself to shelter his body, but it was futile against the droid that held him up, exposing his now reddening back. 

The third cry resounded and fluttered into heavy sobs when the droid rolled the whip back into storage. The droid holding Anakin released him and he toppled to his knees, forehead kissing the floor as his flogged back burned and cut open, droplets of blood sliding down.

A black hole opened in the center of Obi-Wan's chest, swallowing his heart hole and leaving nothing but a freezing prickle where it once was. All the vitality in his body zapped out and he dangled in the droids' metal limbs. Dooku stepped away, disinterested in the scene now that the flogging ended. "Send in the cleaners," he ordered to one of the droids. "I want this place immaculate by noon."

He strolled out of the room, his black cape fluttering by his ankles. He rounded on his heels, surveying the scene before his dark eyes rested on Obi-Wan. "I believe this has been an... enlightening lesson. For the two of you."

Obi-Wan glared, but said nothing. No need to engage with an egomaniac and bring about more suffering. Dooku grinned, arrogant in his triumph. The Sith Lord departed without another word or command. All that was left were the sniffles of an innocent and the clanking pounds of droids moving behind them. Obi-Wan lifted his weary head, gaze fallen on Anakin's shaking form. Repulsed at the sight and desperate to blanket Anakin to stop the shivers, Obi-Wan walked ahead only to be yanked back by the droids holding him hostage. 

Obi-Wan growled at their prevention. "Release me."

The droids didn't budge nor even register his command or distress. Qui-Gon, however, did. The Sith Lord took one look at Obi-Wan, pity hiding behind that stoic mask. Obi-Wan didn't care though. His focus was on Anakin, still in a crumbled mess.

Qui-Gon succumbed and gave a single nod to the droids. The irons clasps unlocked around his arms and Obi-Wan wasted no time in striding across the space, dropping to his knees beside Anakin. 

He gently cupped his hand on Anakin's neck, encouraging the boy to move. "Hey there. It's me, Anakin," he whispered. "It's only me."

Anakin trembled underneath his hand, heart pounding too loudly in his chest and within the Force. He didn’t move at Obi-Wan’s touch nor even seemed to register that Obi-Wan now squatted beside him. Careful, Obi-Wan pulled Anakin back from the floor, bringing him to a straighter position.

Anakin sniveled. “My back…”

Obi-Wan checked his back again. It burned bright. Red lines scratched into his skin, some bleeding and others swelling. It didn’t look good, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as others Obi-Wan had seen. Some bacta and a cooling gel would treat the wounds well enough.

“It’s not bad,” Obi-Wan reassured Anakin. “A little bit of bacta and you’ll be good as new.”

Anakin doubted him. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan sighed, remembering his own whippings as a teenager. The electro-whips left his back burning for hours or sometimes even days depending on many lashes he received. “But we can’t stay down here forever. We must get up. You can do that, right?”

Anakin’s mouth trembled as he pondered. “I-I think so. I… I don’t know,” he said through his tears. “It hurts, Obi-Wan. It really hurts!”

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan took Anakin’s arm, guiding him back to his feet. If he could, he would have carried young Anakin, but he feared it would only agitate the wounds. He checked the back again, unrolling Anakin’s shirt as to cover up the marks. Seeing the lashes, dread consumed Obi-Wan. An added weight to his burdening shoulders. “I’m so sorry Anakin. This is all my fault.”

The boy sniveled, wiping his nose with his sleeves. He didn’t say anything. Just shook and Obi-Wan helped him to his feet. Anakin remained hunched, too afraid to move his back due to the pain shooting up his spine. Obi-Wan assisted, giving him support as they turned to head to the door.

To Obi-Wan’s surprise, the doors opened before they reached them. Then he was immediately repulsed. A medical droid zoomed onto the scene, followed by a human female dressed in medical garb. She brought with her a moving capsule, guiding it into the dining hall.

Her soft eyes spotted them, assessing them as the injured. “Here,” the healer approached them. “I’ll take it from here.”

Obi-Wan didn’t budge from Anakin. “I got it.”

“Let her do her job, Obi-Wan,” came Qui-Gon’s voice as the Sith Lord stepped back into his peripheral vision. “She’ll take good care of Anakin.”

“I’m not leaving Anakin with anyone,” Obi-Wan growled, shielding Anakin with his arm. “I’ll care for his wounds. I know how to dress lashes.”

“I have no doubt,” Qui-Gon agreed, meaning he must remembered the whippings Obi-Wan received as a boy. “But let Anakin go to the medbay with the healers. He still needs to get a full physical done, which will take time. We’ll have a servant escort him back to his quarters when he’s done.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“I know—but you must learn to let go,” Qui-Gon said as he pulled Obi-Wan away, fingers pinching into Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he dragged him off. The healer swooped in and caught Anakin, hurrying him to the floating capsule. Anakin checked over his shoulder, teary eyes widening at the thought of being separated.

“Obi-Wan—”

His voice was cut off as the healer pushed him down into the capsule. Secured, the healer directed the floating capsule out of the dining room and into the hall. Out of sight all together from Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon still held onto Obi-Wan, refusing to let go until the tightening of muscles relaxed into a feeble surrender. Obi-Wan stared at the door, wondering how everything led up to this moment. No matter what he did, he always came back to feeling utterly helpless.

“He’ll live, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, trying to be reassuring, but falling flat. “It’s a terrible shame Anakin had to go through that, but I have no doubt young Anakin can survive a few lashings. After all, you did raise him. He’ll be fine.”

That gave Obi-Wan no comfort at all. He shivered, bringing his hands up to his arms, rubbing them over his jacket for some heat. Qui-Gon was wrong. Nothing was going to be fine. Everything has changed. The galaxy was in danger and he and Anakin, their lives were about to become so much darker than ever before.

And it was something that he didn’t think he and Anakin would survive.

* * *

One of the Queen’s handmaidens hurried down the vast corridors, turning lefts and rights until she reached the monarch’s chambers. She knocked her code into the door. Taps here and there. Then she waited.

A moment later, another handmaiden answered the door. “Is everything all right? The Queen was about to go to bed.”

“I’m afraid this cannot wait,” the handmaiden responded. “I received word from the air control. There’s an incoming, unmarked ship trying to land. The pilot claims she is friends with the Queen?”

The handmaiden furrowed her brows, odd by the news.

“Sabé?” called the sweet voice of their hero Queen. “What is the problem?”

Sabé politely widened the door to allow the Queen and the other handmaiden to see face to face. Padmé’s brown hair hung loose, curls tight in her hair. Dark eyes looked on with great concern, making her appear far older than her true age. Yet, the handmaidens would do anything the Queen asked. It was their duty and privilege to do so.

“Your Highness, there is a unmarked ship trying to land on the planet,” Sabé explained. “The pilot claims to know you.”

Padmé raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Do we have the pilot’s name?”

Sabé turned to the other handmaiden for an answer.

The handmaiden nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “She said her name was Satine Kryze. Duchess of Mandalore.”

Padmé rose to her feet at once. “Grant her access to the royal ports,” she ordered to the handmaiden. “Inform the guards of an arriving guest, but keep the identity a secret. Do not let it be leaked outside the palace.”

The handmaiden bowed in acceptance. “Yes, your Highness,” she responded and moved out to perform her duty.

Padmé turned to Sabé. “I’m afraid sleep will have to wait,” she said removing her nightwear. “I’ll need some new clothes.”


	38. Aftermath

Padmé sat poised in the throne room, listening to her advisors gabber and discuss the situation at hand. While outwardly she was calm and stoic, inside her nerves wrangled in a knot that settled deep in her stomach. When Satine landed and fumbled down the ramp of her (smuggler's?) ship, Padmé knew something terrible occurred. Only when Satine drew closer did Padmé noticed her injuries. Padmé hailed a medical team to assist Satine, but Satine stubbornly refused until she relayed everything to Padmé. 

And now, Padmé found herself sitting amongst her advisors, debating over the situation and Naboo's place in it. To be frank, Padmé would have ordered their private military to assist in rescuing Obi-Wan and Anakin. But, as Queen, she could not drag her entire planet into a war with another planet. A more militarized planet going off Satine's description. 

So her dilemma heightened her worries. She wished to help Obi-Wan and Anakin, just as much as they helped her win her planet.

"We are still recovering from the Trade Federation's occupation," cried Governor. "We cannot spare the resources to engage in another battle! A battle not of our own."

"But these individuals are the reasons behind our occupation," claimed another. "And they are holding Naboo's heroes hostage. We cannot abandon them in their time in need."

"Heroes as they may be, but they are not our citizens," called another. "They are fugitives of the Republic. Criminals!"

"Criminals who risked their lives to save our Queen and people," corrected another. "Without them, we would not be sitting in this circle."

"We cannot drag Naboo into a war with Serenno. Not if we take the Duchess' word on their military. We would certainly lose!"

"We will not go in alone," said another. "The Jedi will be arriving soon and they will assist."

"Jedi are monks. Not warriors."

"Yet they carry a lightsaber. A weapon is it not?"

Padmé nearly had enough of the gabbled debate, tired that a compromise had yet to blossom from their constant back and forth. She sighed, thinking of possible solutions to help Obi-Wan and Anakin without igniting a war. She and her handmaidens thoroughly researched Serenno and Dooku and Qui-Gon all last night, piecing together the history. She understood that Obi-Wan was a former padawan, under Qui-Gon's tutelage before he fled. During the time he lived there, transactions with a variety of planets and banking clans occurred. Money, land and business dealings were passed, under different government officials that made it difficult to connect it back to Dooku or Qui-Gon. A tactic, Padmé believed, was to keep their identities clean and blind the Jedi Order of their dark dealings. 

As her court continued to argue on what to do, Padmé heard a shuffle behind her. Then a voice whispered in her ear. "Your Highness, the Jedi have arrived."

Finally, Padmé thought. She gave an appreciative nod to her handmaiden before turning to her court. "Thank you councilors for your wisdom," she interrupted their argument. "There is much to think about. Let us adjourned and return later in the afternoon."

No one argued against her. They all rose and formally saluted her as she exited the chamber with her trusted handmaidens and her new captain, Gregar Typho. "Have the Jedi be brought to the antechamber overlooking the waterfall," she ordered. "It will be relatively quiet there."

Captain Typho pulled out his comlink and relayed the message to the security team charged in escorting the Jedi. They arrived at the antechamber quick enough. Padmé took her seat, unsure how she would react upon seeing the Jedi. Her first experience with them was not kind. They had arrested Obi-Wan and Anakin on false charges and then they enticed her former captain to betray not only Obi-Wan, but also herself. To be truthful, she would not have called for a meeting with them, but it was Master Yoda who called, seeking an audience with her after he informed her of Anakin's abduction. Padmé, remembering Yoda's involvement in releasing Obi-Wan and Anakin, granted his request. Still, she felt uneasy about meeting a team of Jedi. 

It was another ten minutes before the doors opened again. Eight Jedi strolled through the doors, escorted by her security team. They all worse the same face. Stoic and phlegmatic. Unemotional to the point it looked like they were mere machines than sentient beings.

All eight Jedi bowed before standing erect, waiting patiently to be addressed. Padmé reviewed each Jedi. She knew Master Yoda well enough, but the others she knew nothing at all. There was a female Tholothian with deep indigo eyes. Next to her, a petite, but tom-boyish female human with blonde hair stood at attention, but her eyes watched the Tholothian closely. A braid dangled on her right side. Another was an Iktotchi, a species Padmé never seen, but heard of. He had two horns protruding from the sides of his face, resting on his shoulders. Beside him was Master Yoda, his leathery face far older than she last remember. On the other side of Master Yoda, stood a tall, scarred man. He had a cybernetic eyes that rolled over the room with ease and a prosthetic right leg that he had no qualms of revealing. A Kiffar male stood next to him, chest puffed out a little and, unlike the rest of the Jedi, expressed an easy smile in her direction. Almost flirtatious.

Padmé ignored him, eyes scooting down the line as she saw a Kel Dor, forced to wear a breathing mask and goggles, and a female Chalactan.

All of them gazed back at her, waiting for some sort of recognition or acceptance. Padmé was hesitant to give it, but she knew better to let her feelings cripple bridges. The Jedi realized their mistake and have come to make amends. That was the first step. And she needed to extend her hand to help them.

“Thank you for coming,” Padmé addressed the Jedi, giving them permission to sit on the seats provided. The Jedi all took their seats, Master Yoda taking the one directly in front of the Queen. “The situation is grave.”

Master Yoda dropped his ears. “Grave news it is,” he responded. “The Duchess, how is she?”

“Recovering,” Padmé answered. “She relayed all her information directly to me before accepting healers’ care.”

“And?” came the deep, penetrating voice of the Iktotchi. “What information did she pass on to you?”

Padmé inhaled deeply. She remembered witnessing Satine stumbled and wobbled with the twisted ankle, the scratches on her hands, arms and ankles. But, what really drew her to gasp was the deep gashes on her collarbone and shoulders. Those were not made by mere brushes against foliage.

Padmé knew then what happened to her and when Satine imparted her story since Mandalore’s fall, Padmé ire grew.

“Master Kenobi is imprisoned on Serenno,” Padmé informed the Jedi. “By Dooku and Qui-Gon.”

“That is to be expected,” came the human with the artificial eye. “Qui-Gon will not let Kenobi out of sight.” He straightened up, the eye rotating. “What of Skywalker? Was he with them?”

“She did not see Anakin. She was secluded to a room. Only saw Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.”

Master Yoda darkly hummed. “Obi-Wan fare in captivity, how does, hmm?” 

Padmé recalled the words Satine passed onto him. “She saw no signs of injury, if that is what you ask,” she said. “Physically well-cared for, but she is clear that he suffers.”

Master Yoda nodded, understanding the underlying words. “Expected.”

Expected? How could they simply  _expect_  such horrendous things and not show any signs of surprise or disgust? The only signs to show any uncomfortableness came from the younger Jedi. Padmé took note, analyzing that they were around Obi-Wan’s age. Peers or… perhaps even friends at one point. Still, that was not good enough.

“Was there anything you were  _not_ expecting?” Padmé decided to throw at them.

That brought the Jedi to heel. They all reacted as she  _expected_. Irritated, ashamed and proud. A mix of all three flittering across their faces.

Master Yoda was not amused by her retort. “Angry, you are. Understand this, I do,” he tried to ease the tension in the room. “Here to help, we are. Hostility, needed not.”

Padmé’s gaze hardened. “Then let me be blunt,” she said, turning on her regal voice. “We have two innocent people trapped and tortured on a planet controlled by two Sith Lords who were once considered Jedi a mere few days ago. What I ask is simple—what are the Jedi willing to do?”

The tall man shifted, taking the center of attention as his artificial eye found her. “We came here, to Naboo, to rectify the mistakes we made which resulted in Kenobi’s and Skywalker’s capture,” he answered her demand. “We are willing to do what is necessary to prevent the Sith from rising to power. Is that what you want to hear, Queen Amidala?

“Or do you wish to hear an apology?” the man offered. “Though I find giving an apology pointless seeing as the two who deserve it are not here.”

Padmé glared at the man, unafraid by his jab. “I do not seek an apology nor did I invite you here to condemn you,” she informed him. “I seek to know what the Jedi plan to do to rescue Obi-Wan and Anakin. As citizens and heroes of Naboo, I wish to see their safe return.”

“They are not citizens of Naboo,” corrected the Tholothian. “They are Jedi.”

“I believe you would find that they’d disagree,” Padmé rebuffed and turned to Master Yoda. “Master Jedi? What are your thoughts in going forward?”

Master Yoda hummed, closing his eyes to get a better connection to the Force. “Difficult it is to see,” he replied. “A dangerous path we are on. But invade Serenno we must to save them. What does Naboo say?”

“My court has argued the past few hours in regards on participation,” Padmé said. “Many believe we should not engage in an act of war during recovery from our occupation. Others state that Serenno was the reason for our occupation to begin with and must be accountable.

“I do not wish to engage in an act of war,” Padmé told Master Yoda, “but I cannot sit by and allow others to suffer. Naboo’s military force will be unable to participate, but I will, nonetheless, assist in your endeavor.”

While the Jedi looked disappointed, Master Yoda understandably nodded. “Most appreciated, your help is.”

“Then let us move forward,” Padmé said to the Jedi. “I believe we can remove negotiation as a possible solution to the situation. So, let us focus more on physical retrieval.”

A murmur of agreement resounded the antechamber. Padmé divulged the specifics she knew from Satine. “According to Duchess Satine, the planet is surrounded by patrol stations,” she said. “I assume she meant battle stations. No ships can enter or leave without the Sith being aware.”

The dark haired man leaned in his seat. “I imagine that any Republic cruiser that makes its approach would be shot down?”

“I imagined so,” Padmé agreed. “The Duchess overheard that Serenno is on lockdown. No proper identification, then no access.”

“Well, then, how did the Duchess escaped?” came the young Kiffar with the gold stripe across his face. “Wouldn’t they shoot down her ship seeing as she didn’t get permission to leave?”

The dark haired man’s eye rolled to the younger male, scolding. “Quinlan—”

“She was aboard a smuggler’s ship. It had a concealing cloak that hid her ship as she escaped the planet,” Padmé explained, interrupting the rebuke.

“Then why don’t we do that, then?” Quinlan suggested. “Use her ship to get on the planet.”

“It’s too small to fit everyone,” Padmé replied, recalling the small, battered ship. “Enough room for at least five people, which would not be enough to lead an assault on a highly fortified palace.”

That didn’t stop the Jedi from pursuing his original plan. “Then we get a bigger ship,” he said, nonchalantly. “I’m sure the Republic has several seized smuggler ships in storage we could borrow.”

“It would take days to obtain permission to borrow one,” breathed the Kel Dor. “Especially with the current political climate.”

The Kel Dor Jedi was being kind in his description. In actuality, from what Padmé witnessed and read, it was democracy dying in darkness. Things have exploded since the Invasion of Naboo. The Chancellor struggled to keep the Senate from breaking, but dignitaries from different planets were declaring independence, throwing blame at the Republic’s lack of effort and the Chancellor’s power seize. Systems were removing themselves from the Republic and banking clans were withholding money to the Republic, making things difficult to get anything done.

“Besides, a cloaking ship is costly and not many can afford it,” continued the Kel Dor. “Whoever owned the one the Duchess borrowed was wealthy or important enough to have it.”

“Then we get another ship?” came the dark-skinned Tholothian. “One without Republic markings.”

“But we would fail to have the access codes to grant entrance,” reminded the horned Jedi. “Which would result in termination if the Sith discover us.”

“We’ll need someone who has access to Serenno and is willing to help smuggle Jedi onto the planet,” said the Chalactan. “Otherwise, it will be near impossible to gain entry. Even with a cloaking ship, we wouldn’t even know where to land; and there is the possibility that they have scanners to check how many sentient beings are on board.”

All valid points. Too many variables to consider and anything could go wrong. For it to be even a decent rescue, they would need help from an unlikely source. The Jedi kept discussing over different variations of rescue. One even presented a fully fledge battle against the planet, but that was knocked down immediately by the Grandmaster, stating that the Jedi nor the Republic have the resources to go on a full assault against a powerful planetary system like Serenno. Even if they didn’t have a droid army at their beck and call.

“We need an actual smuggler to assist,” came the Kel Dor’s voice. “Someone who is willing to help the Jedi.”

A snort came from the Iktotchi. “There are few smugglers who are willing to risk their careers in assisting the Jedi. Smugglers know that being associated with Jedi do not get paid.”

A grumble of acquisition followed, but for Padmé, a jolt of lightening reawakened her. The cogs in her mind clicked. Louder and louder until a solution pieced itself together right before her eyes.

“There might be someone.”

Padmé’s utter drew drawing every Jedi’s attention. Doubt and curiosity fell on her as they waited for an explanation.

Padmé straightened her spine, chin lifting a tad to take on her queen persona. “Anakin once told me a story about a pirate they encountered,” she said, remembering how eager Anakin was in re-telling the tale to her. “This pirate may be of some help to us and our mission.”

Master Yoda’s ears curled in questioned. “The pirate’s name?”

“Hondo Ohnaka.”

* * *

He failed. 

He failed... everything.  _Everyone_!

For the first time in his life, he never felt so dead in the galaxy. Even that time he laid in a pool of his own blood. That pain was nothing compared to what raged inside him, destroying and decaying it to ash. 

He knew better. Years living under their roof and suffering from their hands, he should have known where the line was drawn. The extent of what they would do to not only him, but others. The scars reminded him every day and yet... it slipped from his mind. His actions—his words!—brought about a cruel grief for him and Anakin.

A sting reverberated across his back and he tripped forward, falling on right on his face.

A shadow overcast him. “You’re distracted. Again.”

Obi-Wan ignored the pain and pushed himself back onto his feet. Qui-Gon waited, two staffs in his hand as Obi-Wan wobbly got up. Once off the floor, Qui-Gon threw the staff back to Obi-Wan.

“You think too much,” Qui-Gon pointed out. “It’s distracting. You do not need to think. Feel.”

Obi-Wan said nothing. He spun the staff in his hand, nodding along just to get Qui-Gon to shut up. They returned to positions and restarted the duel. Obi-Wan only paid a little attention to where he was fighting. To him, it didn’t matter who won or lost. In the end, he was still trapped. Still at the Sith’s mercy. Anakin bleeding and crying…

A sharp jab to his face jolted him out of his mind. He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to cradle the injured cheek.

“Focus!” Qui-Gon’s voice boomed up ahead. “Do not let your mind wander from a fight.”

Obi-Wan picked his head up, dropping his hand from his face. He already knew that not paying attention would get him kill, but at the moment, he didn’t care. None of it mattered to him.

Qui-Gon must have sensed his rebellion for he let out a long sigh, lowering his staff in a non-threatening manner. “Pouting is an unbecoming behavior, young one.”

“I’m not pouting,” Obi-Wan countered. “I’m just—tired.”

“Tired?” Qui-Gon raised a skeptical brow. “I have yet to see you yawn once.”

“That’s because I released it into the Force.”

A brief smile appeared on Qui-Gon, before vanishing into a more somber mask. “You feel guilty for what happened earlier this morning,” he analyzed. “You need to let go of that moment. It is in the past. You shouldn’t let it hurt you here in the present.”

“It shouldn’t have happened to begin with,” Obi-Wan argued, eyes snapping up to meet his master’s eyes. “Anakin did what he had to do to protect me. If Dooku—”

“ _Count_  Dooku, padawan.”

“Exactly!” Obi-Wan said, dramatically waving a hand at Qui-Gon. “He’s an egotistical madman! His fragile ego got hurt and he took it out on Anakin.”

“Obi-Wan—”

Obi-Wan scoffed at hearing his master’s tone, disinterested in hearing an explanation. “Don’t bother trying to normalize it,” he said to the Sith. “What Anakin said was the truth! Dooku is a murderer. If he doesn’t like it, then perhaps he should withhold strangling me next time.”

Qui-Gon was unimpressed. To him, Obi-Wan’s act was nothing more than a child’s tantrum that he had to witness. “I am truly sorry for what happened to Anakin. I really am,” he began. “But, sometimes, pain is the greatest teacher a student can have. It empowers you to grow into your highest self.”

“Oh—I see, so Dooku was being altruistic when he was strangling me and beating Anakin?” Obi-Wan mocked. “In that case, he was being far too generous.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “You know what I mean, Obi-Wan. Pain is inevitable to one’s growth, but suffering is optional,” he said coming around to Obi-Wan’s side. “In the end, we must choose which pain we can bear: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.”

Without warning, Obi-Wan’s chin was taken by Qui-Gon, cradled by calloused hands. “And I can tell you right now that the pain of regret is far more excruciating than the pain of discipline,” Qui-Gon finished in a whisper. “You have suffered enough, Obi-Wan. You put up a good fight, but in the end, it brought you back here. The Force wants you here. This is where your destiny lies.”

Obi-Wan scanned the dojo, assessing the room. He didn’t want his destiny to be here. Not at the palace. He wanted nothing to do with the Siths.

Qui-Gon must have seen how stricken Obi-Wan was at the prospect for he gently patted his cheek. “It’ll be all right, Obi-Wan,” he tutted. “Remember what I told you? Back at the Temple? You and Anakin have a far greater destiny than anyone. Dooku has seen it. I have too. You will go on to do great things.”

Unable to bear Qui-Gon’s touch, Obi-Wan stepped back, horrified. He shook his head, surprised that he was able to stay so calm. “You’re wrong. Whatever you think you saw or witnessed was wrong,” he said, voice getting louder as he spoke. “Anakin and I will not help you or Dooku destroy the galaxy. And the Jedi—they’ll stop you!”

The mere mention of  _Jedi_  brought a cruel smirk to Qui-Gon’s lips, twisting his features into a dark entity that nearly spooked Obi-Wan. “The Jedi are far too tied up with politics to have any real power to do anything,” he said. “Too stagnant. Too content with things that it would be too late for them to realize they need to take action.”

“Master Yoda—”

“Yoda belong to the past. His mind is many years far back,” Qui-Gon all but snarled his reply. “He has led the Jedi into its stagnant union.” He took Obi-Wan’s chin again, raising it up so that Obi-Wan could not hide from him. “But you and Anakin—you are the future. Which is why Dooku and I are taking every precaution necessary to keep you two on the straight and narrow.”

“And that means torturing us?” challenged Obi-Wan, his tone sharper than a steel blade. “Restricting our freedoms?!”

“That means having to do whatever necessary to see yours and Anakin’s destiny be fulfilled,” Qui-Gon corrected before looking exasperated at Obi-Wan. “I am truly sorry Anakin was whipped. I didn’t want that for him. But we cannot allow such disobedience go unchecked. You  _know_  this, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan was quite aware of the extreme measures Dooku took to resolve any retaliation. “You’re right,” he quietly admitted. “I expect Dooku to take such measures, but not you. I never thought you would.”

“As you said earlier. A lot has changed since we were all here last,” Qui-Gon said. “I do not enact violence for fun, but I will do what I must to follow the will of the Force. Even if one is being too stubborn to listen.”

Obi-Wan knew the last sentence was a jab at him. It appeared this battle was going nowhere. Nothing Obi-Wan would say would get Qui-Gon to think of things differently. Obi-Wan didn’t even understand why he bothered to reason with Qui-Gon. The man was gone. His old master died nearly ten years ago. This new version—this evil incarnate—was never going to care about him as much as the original Qui-Gon did.

And that broke Obi-Wan’s heart.

Qui-Gon released a burdening sigh, wiping his brows with his sleeves. “Let’s call it for today,” he said, taking away Obi-Wan’s staff. “Go and get yourself showered. By the time you are done, Anakin will most likely be in his quarters.”

Obi-Wan didn’t argue. He hastened to leave Qui-Gon’s presence behind him. But a hand snared on his shoulder, stopping him from escape. He turned, spying Qui-Gon holding him steady.

“Before you go,” Qui-Gon said, voice suddenly soft and warm like so long ago, “I need you to know that, when it all comes to it, I will do whatever it takes to protect you and Anakin. I know you don’t believe me right this second, but it’s the truth. I care too much for you and the boy to lose you both again.

“Now, go and get cleaned up,” Qui-Gon said, pushing Obi-Wan to the showers at the other side of the dojo. “The guards will be here to escort you to Anakin’s rooms. I’ll see you around.”

And like that, Qui-Gon turned away from him, putting up the staffs before he instructed the team of security droids to wait for Obi-Wan outside the showers. Without even a brief glance, Qui-Gon exited the dojo, leaving Obi-Wan to ponder if Qui-Gon actually meant what he said.

Obi-Wan dejectedly shook his head. No. Of course not. If he cared, then none of this would be happening to them.

* * *

Anakin laid on his stomach, trying hard to not breathe too heavily or else send a tremor of pain along his spine. Every now and then, he treated to a slice of pain running across his back. It took a lot of effort not to cry. The bacta patches cooled the heat and brought the swelling to a minimum, but the pain lingered. It latched its dark tendrils straight into Anakin’s bones.

Unforgiving and showing no mercy.

Anakin breathed again. His breaths were shallow. Only going high enough to avoid the sharp reminder that his back was still in recovery.

The healers were kind and gentle. They did everything to lessen the pain, promising it would get better in no time. Yet, time ticked by and Anakin found it never left him. It kept him hostage, binding him to this bed and unable to be completely free.

He wished Obi-Wan was here. He gripped the blankets underneath him, fingers curled and pinched to his palm as he took another uneasy breath.

A door opened. Light pooled into the dimmed room for a few seconds before it vanished at the sound of the door closing. Footsteps treaded across the floor, stopping but a few feet away from him. Anakin felt the bed shift as additional weight was added.

Then a hand stroked the back of his head. “You awake, Anakin?”

Obi-Wan!

In his joy, Anakin leapt from his spot to hug Obi-Wan only to wince and collapsed from the ache striking across his spine. Obi-Wan caught him, easing him back down to a more restful position. “Take it easy,” Obi-Wan advised. “Just rest for a bit.”

Anakin didn’t argue. He let Obi-Wan lay him back down on the bed, one side of his face pillowed by a plush comforter. Obi-Wan sat beside him, sad eyes wandering. Obi-Wan kept a hand on his head, gently rubbing that settled Anakin’s nerves down little by little.

“I see your back still aches.”

Anakin nodded.

“You want me to take a look?”

Anakin considered for a moment. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan was careful when he rolled up Anakin’s shirt to reveal his bandaged back. A gentle breeze kissed along the exposed skin, sending a shiver up Anakin. Obi-Wan studied his back a little bit longer before rolling his shirt down.

“How long have these bandages been on you?”

Anakin had to think. “Um… a few hours now.”

“We should change them,” Obi-Wan said, getting up from the bed and moving to the refresher. He disappeared inside the refresher for a few minutes, coming out with wraps and a bottle in his hands. “I know the healers say to change them every twelve hours, but I find that the scars heal better if you change the bacta more frequently.”

Obi-Wan would know. After all, Anakin had seen his back. The white scars that crisscrossed left his flesh a mosaic of ugliness and foulness. A sight for sore eyes that even made battle-hardened soldiers cringed. Obi-Wan, Anakin knew, was whipped years before they ever met. He had gone through the same pain Anakin experienced now and knew the best way to care for it.

Obi-Wan unraveled a few bandages and uncapped the bottle. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

Anakin wasn’t worried. It was Obi-Wan. He wouldn’t hurt him. Ever.

Obi-Wan peeled the bandages away. Its sticky substance stretched Anakin’s skin, causing him to cringe at the sharp prick, but Anakin admitted that Obi-Wan did a good job not causing even more pain. Soon, a cooling gel touched his sore back, sending a comfortable wave across his fiery back. The pain briefly washed away, leaving Anakin in a state of bliss. No pain. He took a deep breath. Nothing. He could breathe properly again.

Obi-Wan finished applying the bacta and then quickly wrapped the wounds. “Looks good, Anakin. The swelling died down. Far quicker than mine used to,” he reported. “A couple of more changes and you’ll be almost as good as new.”

Almost. Never quite the same as before. Anakin turned his head up to Obi-Wan. “I hate them.”

Obi-Wan stopped screwing the cap back on the bottle. “I’m sorry?”

“I hate them!” Anakin repeated, fervently. Flush returned to his cheeks. “I hate Dooku! I hate Qui-Gon! I hate them! I want them dead! I want them—”

“Shooo,” Obi-Wan quietly shushed Anakin, his hand resting on Anakin’s shoulder. “Calm down, Ani.”

Anakin hadn’t heard Obi-Wan call him that nickname in years. Others have called him that. It was the name they sometimes used as covers when Anakin enrolled in schools, but Obi-Wan hardly used it after Anakin was aged five. To hear him it say again, brought Anakin to silence.

And tears trickled down his cheeks. He missed those days. Running around and tinkering on machines as Obi-Wan sat beside him, helping him on different projects or instructing him in the Force. He remembered nights where he asked Obi-Wan to tell him a story, laying on his makeshift bed or cuddling up next to Obi-Wan, listening to Obi-Wan’s voice until he drifted to a good night sleep. He would say goodnight and Obi-Wan would respond, “Goodnight Ani.”

How he missed those days where they were free.

Obi-Wan brushed the short strands of hair from his eyes. Like Obi-Wan, Anakin also got a makeover done. They had cut his hair and scrubbed him to death, removing at least two layers of skin. Obi-Wan, however, didn’t comment on his appearance. Rather he rubbed his head gently, massaging the scalp like he used to do when Anakin fell asleep beside him as Obi-Wan read.

Obi-Wan wiped away a few of his tears. “Don’t hate, Anakin,” he said. “That is what they want.”

“I can’t help it though,” Anakin grumbled. “I hate them for what they did.”

“I know, but hate has no room for love,” Obi-Wan softly replied. “And without love, there is no happiness. Do you not want to be happy again?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, but… I’m still mad. At them.”

“It’s hard not to,” Obi-Wan agreed, looking back to the doors, “but we must not let it distract us. Remember? Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to—”

“Suffering,” Anakin finished, blinking away one of his last tears. “I know. I try. I really do.”

“I know you do.”

Anakin flicked his eyes up to Obi-Wan. “How did you do it?”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, baffled by the question. “Do what?”

“How did you stay with them for three years?” Anakin clarified, craning his neck a bit more to get a better view of Obi-Wan. “Why didn’t you ever try to run away?”

The question surprised Obi-Wan. He leaned back, eyes rolled up in thought as his hand reached for the edge of his chin. “I-I don’t really know,” he confessed. “I guess… I guess I had this  _hope_  that things would get better.”

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows. “You stayed for three years because of  _hope_? Even after Dooku and Qui-Gon beat you up?”

“Hope is a powerful thing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan claimed. “It is the only thing stronger than fear.” Obi-Wan brushed his hand through his hair. “And Qui-Gon never beat me. That was Dooku’s forte.”

“But he still allowed it,” Anakin argued, thinking how Qui-Gon didn’t intervene when he was whipped. “He never stopped it, did he?”

Obi-Wan sighed, stumbling over his words. “Err… no, I mean… I suppose he did not,” he conceded. “Most of the time Qui-Gon wasn’t around when it happened. But I guess he knew and did nothing about it.”

“Then why did you stay?” Anakin asked again, confused as to why Obi-Wan wouldn’t want to leave. He knew Obi-Wan tried to reach out to the Jedi, but they refused to save him. So why did it take him three years to run away? “You should have tried to run away! Why didn’t you?”

A little smile crept on Obi-Wan’s face. “What made you think I didn’t?”

Anakin was confused by Obi-Wan’s smile. “Because you said we didn’t escape until  _after_  you met me,” he said. “Why? Did you escaped before?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, sending Anakin into another spiral of confusion. “But I did attempt to escape a few times.” Obi-Wan sat comfortably on the bed while Anakin eagerly listened. “My first time was when I hid on a ship that Qui-Gon planned to take for a mission. My plan was to hop off after he landed and find a com-center to contact Master Yoda. But, Qui-Gon found me before taking off. I tried to convince him to take me with him on the mission, but Dooku insisted I stayed to finish up some of my training. Qui-Gon agreed and told me I could come on the next mission.

“I received five lashes for that,” Obi-Wan told Anakin, holding out a hand to show the number, “along with extra physical activity that wiped me out completely. I could barely move myself off the floor mat.

“Another time I was on Raxus,” Obi-Wan continued. “Dooku and Qui-Gon took me along on some type of negotiation mission. Qui-Gon wanted me to learn how to deal with complicated political heads. Told me it will help me learn a lot about the inner workings of government and negotiation. I played the good padawan. Kept to myself and paid attention. Took notes on how the situation was handled. Brought no attention to myself.

“For that Qui-Gon decided to take me out to the city to explore the culture,” Obi-Wan recalled. “We arrived at the city center. It was crowed and I got ‘lost’. I almost made it to the spaceport when Qui-Gon found me again. He thought perhaps it would be best to return to our guest rooms. Dooku found out what happened and… let’s just say I was unable to move for a couple of days afterwards.”

Anakin didn’t want to picture what Obi-Wan looked like after that. Already he wanted to cry for Obi-Wan. To live his youth in such a lonely and painful existence was not one Anakin ever wanted to experience. He didn’t want to grow up in that environment. He wouldn’t be able to survive. He’s not as strong as Obi-Wan. Not now and maybe not ever. He wouldn’t be able to survive even three days let alone three years in such a dreadful environment.

Obi-Wan didn’t noticed Anakin’s distress, continuing on with his attempted escapes. “The fifth time,” he came dwindling to a close after telling Anakin the story how he nearly got a hold of a comlink from a stranger on Corellia. “Now… the fifth attempt wasn’t even an attempt at all. Because I did get away. And I stayed away for as long as I could. I gave them a run for their credits.”

Obi-Wan smiled down at Anakin. “You gave me that final push to break away from them,” he said. “I knew, right then and there, I had to leave. You and I needed to escape that night. There could be no faults. No mistakes. I didn’t second guess or doubt myself. I did what I had to do. What the Force told me to do. So, I picked you up and ran.”

Anakin heard of their escape multiple times. It was a story Anakin loved to listen to when it came to bedtime for it was an adventure he and Obi-Wan shared together, even if Anakin remembered nothing of it. He twisted a piece of the comforter around his finger, thinking of all the escapes and punishments Obi-Wan went through his short life. Anakin was so thankful for Obi-Wan, risking his life to save his on that fateful night. If Obi-Wan never decided to escape that night, Anakin would have grown up in this dark shell of life. An existence of hurt, anger and loneliness.

If he could, Anakin would have hugged Obi-Wan. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan puzzlingly looked down at Anakin. “Thank you? For what?”

“For saving me all those years ago.”

Obi-Wan’s face softened. “Anytime,” he murmured. “Anytime at all.”

Obi-Wan rose up, looking around for a minute until he reached for the covers. He pulled the comforter out from underneath Anakin. “Here—you should get some sleep,” he said. “It’ll help you recover a bit and regain some strength.”

He threw the comforter over Anakin and readjusted a pillow to fit under his head. “There,” Obi-Wan proclaimed. “That should do it.”

Obi-Wan disappeared from the corner of his eyes. “Wait—don’t go!” Anakin cried out. “Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan reappeared in his line of vision. “I’m not going anywhere,” he calmed Anakin. “Only bringing over a chair.”

“You won’t leave?”

“No, I won’t leave,” Obi-Wan reassured him. “I promise. I’ll stay with you until you wake up.”

Relieved, Anakin snuggled into the sheets. “Obi-Wan?”

“Yeah?” he called from where he sat in a chair next to the bed.

“I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s face fell, knowing perfectly well what Anakin meant. “Don’t be sorry, Anakin. It’s not your fault,” he quietly urged. “Now, get some sleep.”

Anakin wasn’t terribly tired. Sore and a little sleepy, but not enough to make him pass out. And, yet, he felt a pressure in his head that led him down a path to complete darkness of the lights turning off. He would have been afraid to let the dark conquer him, but he still felt the tug of Obi-Wan’s Force presence beside him and knew he would always be safe.

He yawned, calling out to Obi-Wan one last time. “Good-night, Obi-Wan.”


	39. A Pirate's Honor

Hondo Ohnaka was not a man one would make appearances in palaces or governmental buildings unless it was to rule over them. Never has he ever been cordially invited to meet with a queen. Already, he whistled and daydreamed of so many fanciful scenarios, but despite the puffed up chest and bragging of being signaled out, Hondo was suspicious. He heard of the Trade Federation's occupation of Naboo and was well aware that Queen Amidala was not a regal to trifle with when it comes to her planet and people. Nonetheless, his curiosity overrode his better judgment and he directed his crew to Naboo.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by fancy dressed guards, there to escort them to the queen. Hondo flicked his hand at the guards to lead the way, sauntering after them as the guards led them to the Queen. Hondo observed the palace's corridors, eyeing the crystal chandeliers, large tapestries of famous individuals and royals and of course the small things that would easily be swiped such as a vase, small table statues, etc. They wouldn't miss it and besides, there was plenty of wealth to share.

They arrived outside the doors and the guards opened, parting to make way for Hondo and two of his fellow crew members. Hondo cheekily thanked the guards for their protective escort with a salute. He strutted down the lined columns, straight to where a highly decorative young woman—girl?—sat. Behind her was a dark-skinned male, armed with two blasters and an array of color-hooded handmaidens. But, off to the side, Hondo noted, were individuals dressed in basic garb and robes, matching each other in outfits and expression.

As he approached the Queen, Hondo spread his arms in an open gesture. "Queen Amidala!" he half-shouted so that his voice carried in the throne room. "Your beauty far surpasses the rumors I have heard!" He stopped just a few meters away from the queen before giving an obnoxious bow, enjoying every second of the attention.

Queen Amidala returned his compliments with a stony mien. Her painted mask giving her an intimidating look that gave the impression she was far older than her true age. And when she spoke, her words were emotionless and heavy. Not at all what Hondo expected.

"Thank you for making the journey," she said to him and his mates. "I hope it was a pleasant trip."

"For you, Your Highness," Hondo said with a bit of overzealous flair of his hand. "It was most pleasant indeed."

He gave a wink to her. Queen Amidala did not smile. Nor did she look entirely impressed. She only continued on. "We have a proposition for you," she said. "With your background and history, we find that you are most suitable for the task at hand."

This wasn't the first time Hondo was asked to do an errand for someone of the elite class. By elite, he meant more along the lines of the criminal underworld. Mob bosses and criminal clans often hired others outside their circle to do tasks that they cannot have their names attached. Hondo could not fathom why a royal queen needed the assistance of a pirate like himself. After all, she had her own entourage and skilled warriors to assist in any tasks needed. Plus, with Naboo's alignment with the Republic, she could also call on the Senate's hounds, the Jedi. Or perhaps... she could not. After all, she refused to divulge any more information over the comlink when she first extended the invitation. She said that it was a discussion that needed to be face-to-face.

And that right there gave Hondo pause. "Let me hear this proposition," he said, folding his arms and cocking his chin up. "Then I'll decide."

Queen Amidala acquiesced. "We need your assistance in smuggling the Jedi onto Serenno."

All at once, Hondo's cherry and flirtatious attitude dropped, replaced with a betrayed scowl.

It was a rule for all pirates and smugglers' alike. Never do business with a Jedi. In the end, you lose money and possibly, your freedom. Hondo kept to that code. He didn't want to do any business with them. He glared over at the costumed men, now recognizing the lightsabers dangling from their belts. This was a trick! A trap to get him and his crew arrested.

He puffed his chest and turned to the Queen. "We don't do business with Jedi!" he snarled. "We are respectable pirates and we will not have Jedi filth ruin our good name!"

That wrangled a lift of her brow. "I do not wish to harm your...  _reputation_  within the community," she spoke in a wit Hondo admired, but didn't appreciate at the moment. "However, it is not the Jedi who has called for your assistance."

Hondo didn't care. Whoever asked for his specific help either was insane or wanted to kill him. "Sorry, Your Highness, but I am not foolish enough to believe someone would hire us for help."

"Not even if it's Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Silence reigned supremacy for a brief moment as the name filtered through the great hall.

"Kenobi?" Hondo rolled the name off his tongue. It's been a long time since he's heard that name. Ever since Kenobi rejected his offer and left without wanting any revenge or favors in return, Hondo never expected to see him again. Mostly because he believed the bounty on his head would get him killed soon enough. He also found it ridiculous that the queen even claimed Kenobi sought  _his_ help. Kenobi knew better. "I'm afraid, your Highness, you have been deceived," Hondo said to the queen. "Kenobi would never call on me nor would he ever involve himself with the Jedi. You have been fooled."

"It is not Obi-Wan who called personally," Queen Amidala responded to his dismissal. "I called on his behalf. He needs your help. He's being held hostage by two Sith Lords."

"Jinn and Dooku?"

The subtle widening of her eyes informed Hondo that he surprised her with the name drop. "You heard of them?"

Hondo remembered very well when he first heard about them. He knew how dangerous Jinn and Dooku were. Kenobi spoke little about the two, not wanting to engage in chatter. But his silence was enough to give Hondo an inkling at how powerful and dangerous the two men were. Hondo recognized the fear in Kenobi's eyes when he threatened to sell them off to whoever bid the highest. Hondo understood that fear.

Hondo bobbled his head. "He may have mentioned them," he said, off-handedly and he clasped his hands behind his back. "What do I care?"

Queen Amidala's eyes fell into tight slits as she peered down from her throne. "You speak of honor and reputation. And yet, you show indifference to a man who saved your life," she accused him. "Is your honor only limited to your pride?"

Hondo's nostrils flared. No wonder everyone admired her. Smart, beautiful and unafraid to challenge even those who present a threat. Or perhaps she wasn't afraid because she was surrounded by guards and Jedi. In either case, Hondo respected her strength, but did not appreciate the accusing tune she carried in regards to him.

"That debt was settled when I chose to let them go," Hondo defended. "I owe them nothing."

He owed Kenobi a lot. But, to go up against the Sith Lords... there was nothing Hondo could do. It was above his pay grade. Way, way above his pay grade.

The queen's steely gaze didn't leave him. "You owe them nothing," she repeated, lips thinning more as she spoke. "You believe your life debt is cleared because you chose not to sell them like slaves after kidnapping them? That their effort to save you, your crew and ship equaled to that one act?"

Hondo grumbled under his breath at the questioning. He didn't need reminding of all the deeds Kenobi and Skywalker did for them. He was quite aware of how much he and his crew owed the misfit pair. "I cannot help them," he said. "Not against  _them_. You need an army."

Queen Amidala wasn’t deterred. "We have an army."

An army? Hondo looked around, almost expecting to see it. But, all he saw were guards and Jedi. "You need a bigger army than what you have here. Kenobi didn't say much about them, but I know enough to not confront them on a handful of men!"

Queen Amidala hardly registered his concerns, continuing her speech. "All we need from you is your smuggling skills," she said. "We will do the rest."

She gestured to one of her handmaidens. They approached their queen, holding a small chest. She unlocked it and revealed a small trove of gold. Hondo's eyes lit up, mirroring the shining coins. "I am aware that pirates do not do anything freely or without some encouragement," she said as she noticed the pirates’ excited murmur. "We are willing to offer you a small sum for your services if honor is not good enough."

The queen was good at making Hondo feel guilty. He knew he owed Kenobi (and Skywalker for his piloting skills), but the queen's plans were a certain death sentence. No way would they be able to beat the Sith and their army. Hondo was well aware of their manufactured droid army. Any smuggler and pirate has heard the rumors of Geonosis restarting their droid and weapon productions. To go on a full-frontal attack, all to rescue two people, was a suicide mission. Even if those two people were Kenobi and Skywalker.

Yet, Hondo's honor (skewed honor if he was to be honest) convinced him to offer his services. "All right! I’ll honor my debt to Kenobi and participate in this… suicidal mission," Hondo said, though he would have liked more gold for this mission. "However, I am not joining in the fighting. I know when death is certain and this, Your Highness, will not end in the way you think."

Queen Amidala sharpened her gaze. "I'll be the judge of that," she coldly replied. "Please, Captain Ohnaka, see to the Jedi to hear of their plans."

Hondo’s nostrils flared in distrust. He looked back to the queen. “I expect payment promptly,” he said to her. “No tricks!”

The queen bowed her head. “Like yourself,” she said. “I hold my honor to the highest regard.”

Hondo huffed short of a chuckle. She was bold. He liked that. Hondo and his crew were led with the Jedi, both glaring at one another in suspicion and predicted betrayal. Yet, they didn't say a word as the Queen's guards escorted them to a war room where there was a large table with plenty of chairs for everyone to sit.

A little, green troll took the front and center chair, hopping up with ease that startled Hondo for the troll barely managed to even walk in the room. The rest of the Jedi showed no surprise at all by the troll's acrobatics. Instead, they all took their seats on one side of the table while the pirates took over the other side.

The green troll gestured for Hondo to take the seat closest to him. "Begin, we must. Or else, the galaxy in grave danger."

Hondo exasperatedly rolled his eyes. Great! Now he had to spend the rest of his time with a troll that cannot even speak correctly. What did he sign up for? He swore to himself then and there that this would be the last time he ever got himself involved with Kenobi or Skywalker.

* * *

The next morning, Obi-Wan assisted Anakin with his bacta bandages. They changed them three times during the night. The scars faded into the skin to the point it almost looked like there were no scars at all. Almost.

Anakin's servants arrived to dress him, along with a medical droid to address his wounds. Anakin refused the medical droid and quickly took the new clothes to change. He didn't complain or put up any resistance. An improvement according to Abe. Obi-Wan ignored him.

Anakin came out of the refresher, fiddling with the buttons as he hurried up to Obi-Wan's side. "Why can't I wear normal clothes?"

"As prisoners, we don't get that luxury," Obi-Wan sardonically commented. "Now, we are most likely going to be joining them for breakfast. I know, I know, but again, we don't have a choice. Whatever happens, don't do anything unless I give you the sign. Okay? Can you do that?"

Anakin reluctantly nodded.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

They were escorted to the dining hall again. The same as yesterday only to discover that Qui-Gon sat at the table alone. No Dooku. Obi-Wan stared, puzzled for a moment before realizing that dear, old Count was most likely busy with galaxy domination. Obi-Wan recovered from his initial surprise and shepherd Anakin to take a seat opposite of Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan sat next to Anakin. It was a tense setting. Neither individual spoke as they were catered to. Rather than focus on Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan chose to draw all his energy to Anakin, helping him fill his plate with food. Qui-Gon said nothing. He merely observed them as he drank his tea.

Anakin kept glancing to him, nervous at the prospect that Qui-Gon may inflict pain on them. But, Anakin kept his promise and didn't react to Qui-Gon. He did his best to show little interest and kept most of his attention on either the food or Obi-Wan.

They ate through breakfast without any interruptions or attacks. Qui-Gon tended to himself, reading off the holopad for entertainment. Anakin ate as much as his stomach could handle and Obi-Wan ate little, his stomach too upset to digest anything properly. Nerves, most likely, Obi-Wan thought. Too much stress and anxiety building up inside him. Although, he needed to give Jolene credit. Her breakfast spread was amazing!

It was at the end of breakfast that Qui-Gon turned off the holopad and tucked it inside his robes. "All done?" he asked them. They nodded. "Good. I have something I need to show you."

Anakin's eyes immediately sought Obi-Wan. Large and round, heightened to a level of worries that choked Obi-Wan's Force. Obi-Wan patted Anakin's shoulder and smiled softly. A promise everything would be all right. They got up from their seats and followed Qui-Gon out of the dining hall. Their guards just a step behind them.

Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan and Anakin through the corridors. "Anakin?" Qui-Gon broke the silence to which startled Anakin. "How is your back? I was told you denied medical assistance this morning."

Anakin looked to Obi-Wan for direction. Obi-Wan gave him the signal: talk, but be cautious.

"It's better," Anakin muttered.

Qui-Gon nodded his approval. "Good. I'm sure Obi-Wan took good care of you," he said, sounding boastful and demeaning at the same time. “The scars will fade soon enough.”

Anakin grumbled under his breath, which got Obi-Wan to prod him as a reminder of his promise not to hassle the Sith Lords. Anakin crinkled his brows in agitation, but pressed his lips closed. Obi-Wan gave a gentle squeeze on the shoulder to comfort him, a gesture Anakin craved at the moment in an unsettling time.

Qui-Gon led them to another floor in Dooku’s massive palace. Meandering through the palace brought a depressed feeling of recognition. He’s been down this corridor before, but no vivid memories surfaced to remind him of what. Only a familiar feeling.

They stopped outside a door and Qui-Gon unlocked it, gesturing for them to hurry inside the room. They entered into a suite. The design similar was to Naboo's guest suite with a room that contained a bed, a living space decked with a holoprojector, sofas and other entertainment items, and another room that appeared only to have a workbench and a vast assortment of tools.

It was the last room that Obi-Wan finally realized where he was.

Qui-Gon waved to all the rooms. "This," he introduced, "is your very own suite, Anakin."

Anakin quirked up a brow, skeptical of what Qui-Gon gifted. "Suite?"

"Bedroom. Living quarters," Qui-Gon clarified for him. "You see... over there? That's your bedroom. Here is the common space. And, over here in this room," Qui-Gon moved to the doorway that led to the workbench. Obi-Wan and Anakin followed, "is your workbench. I was told you are some sort of prodigy in mechanics. Figured you would enjoy having a place to build whatever you wish."

Anakin gaped at the room, wowed by all the fancy and expensive tools at his disposal. He abandoned Obi-Wan to rush over to the workbench, inspecting the tools in great excitement that his hands couldn't stop touching every single device in his vicinity. His words spilled out in a jumble of exhilaration as he hopped from one tool to the next.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin squealed, picking up a hydrospanner from its secured spot. "Look! It's a hydrospanner 6000! Do you know what that means?"

Not wanting to burst Anakin's bubble of joy, Obi-Wan played along. "What?"

"It means we can finally fix that dreadful repulsorlift engine," Anakin gleefully answered, awing over the tool. "I mean, of course, if we still had it."

Obi-Wan recalled how Anakin nearly lost his life when trying to fix that junk of a speeder. Messing around and forgetting to put the full brakes on it. The speeder zipped right off the cliff in Eriadu. Luckily, Anakin fell off from the initial reaction and missed tumbling over the side. Since then, Obi-Wan always had to be either present or give his explicit confirmation to Anakin to fix anything.

Anakin happily went on explaining all the other tools and gadgets available. Based off Anakin's ramblings, Obi-Wan noted they were the latest and best mechanical tools the galaxy had to offer. No doubt a tactic to get on Anakin's good side.

Qui-Gon lightly chuckled. "Yes, Anakin, you can now build whatever your heart desires," he said, coming up behind them. "Check out the rest of your suite. Make sure it is to your liking. If you find something you don't like, please let Abe know and he'll remove it.

"In the meantime, I need to see Obi-Wan for a moment," he said, which caused both Obi-Wan and Anakin grave concern. Anakin's little eyes darted away from the infinite assortment of tools to Obi-Wan. A sorrowful mute of concern why Obi-Wan was leaving  _again_. Obi-Wan only offered a warm smile to ease Anakin's nerves.

"I'll be back in a bit," he promised to the boy. "See what else is around, so that you can show me later. All right?"

Anakin tentatively agreed. "Sure,” but then he whispered. “Come back fast, though.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan returned and he left with Qui-Gon, hoping that whatever happened next wouldn’t be too terrible or time-consuming. He didn’t want to spend any extra time with the Sith Lord.

Qui-Gon led him up another floor. Obi-Wan wasn't paying attention to much where they were heading. He figured it had to do something with their overall plan of galaxy domination. He'll learn about it soon enough and find a way to dismantle it. Maybe it had to do with Satine? He hoped not. Qui-Gon promised to let Satine go and live in another prison-like accommodations, but it could have been a lie. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Qui-Gon stopped him and opened a door, gesturing Obi-Wan to enter first. Obi-Wan shrugged passed Qui-Gon and stepped through the doorway.

Instantly, Obi-Wan knew what he was looking at. "My old room," he whispered in shock, reviewing his surroundings. It looked the same as when he left it. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. "You kept it?"

"You were going to return," Qui-Gon said, entering in after him. "We had no use for it. As you can see, we have plenty of rooms to spare if visiting dignitaries arrived." Qui-Gon meandered near Obi-Wan's old desk where his old, half-finished lessons plans were left in a neat pile. "May need to upgrade a few things, but that can be arranged."

Obi-Wan moved to his bookcase. All the same books were there. None were taken. "I'm surprised Dooku allowed it," he commented, turning back to Qui-Gon. "I figured he would want to burn this room."

" _Count_  Dooku," Qui-Gon corrected him again. Like Obi-Wan even cared. "He had no feelings over the matter."

Obi-Wan roamed his old room, checking everything out. Someone must have cleaned it. Not a single layer of dust laid on the surface of his bedroom and there was an aroma of sweet garden that wafted through the air. Otherwise, it would have been covered in dust and stale air would clogged his nostrils.

He came to a sudden halt when he spotted a small bassinet pressed up against the wall. His feet glided to the crib. For a split second, he thought he saw baby Anakin, tucked under the covers and blubbering in delight with those wide blue eyes locked on him. But the image disappeared and all that was left was an empty crib. Blankets and toys gone.

"I'll have the crib removed by tonight," Qui-Gon said. Somehow, he managed to slide next to Obi-Wan without a single sound. He studied the empty crib, a solemn look in his eyes. "I remember purchasing the crib and moving it to this exact spot. You persuaded Dooku to have Anakin sleep in your room, something I'm sure Dooku regrets now."

Obi-Wan shuttered at the memory when Anakin arrived in Serenno. His fingers instinctively gripped the side of the bassinet. "Anakin wouldn't stop crying unless I was in the room with him. It was easier for all of us to sleep if he stayed with me."

"Yes, but the arrangement didn't last very long did it?"

"Lasted for seven years," Obi-Wan answered. "I would say that's long."

A little smirk appeared from Qui-Gon's beard. "I guess so,” he concurred. “Must have been hard raising him by yourself."

It was, but Obi-Wan wasn't going to give Qui-Gon that satisfaction. "Not at all. Anakin's a good kid."

"Didn't say he wasn't," Qui-Gon commented, turning away from the crib. "He is a good kid. Passionate too."

Obi-Wan's fingers went cold. "Only for mechanics."

"That and life in general," Qui-Gon observed. "That's why I made the comment. Must have been challenging. A kid like Anakin... hard to keep him still. Always wanting to move and do things."

"Good thing we lived life on the run then," Obi-Wan remarked, walking away from the crib and Qui-Gon. "Always moving and fighting for our lives. Thanks for that by the way."

Qui-Gon rubbed a palm over his face. His skin wrinkled in weariness from the constant battling of words with him. "Don't start," he said. "I don't want to get into an argument with you."

"Then don't talk to me," Obi-Wan suggested, heading to the window that used to dominate his whole worldview of Serenno. Mountain landscapes he used to dream he could reach. All to get away from the very room he stood in.

He heard Qui-Gon let out a heavy sigh. It appeared that the conversation didn’t go as planned. Then again, what did he expect? Obi-Wan wasn't happy and showing his old room wouldn't make things better. Nothing here would ever make Obi-Wan happy.

Soft pats of boots moved across the room and Qui-Gon reappeared beside him. "This isn't how I wanted things to be between us," the Sith Lord said. "I know we have a long ways to go before we could go back to being... well, like we used to be." Obi-Wan raised a brow, doubtful in that hope. It was far too late for them to ever be a master-padawan again. Qui-Gon, however, wasn’t discouraged. "Anyway, I wish to give you something. More like  _return_  to you," he corrected. "Hold out your hand."

Obi-Wan thought about declining, but he went against the idea. It was only a gift. He could reject afterwards. He held out his hand and a soft, smooth stone fell into his palm. Obi-Wan stared, confused by the stone, until recognition jolted his memories. He lifted the stone up by his fingers, examining the entire surface. "It's the river stone."

Qui-Gon nodded. "The same one I gave you for your fourteenth birthday," he affirmed. "Found it a few days after you ran away. Kept it in my pocket the entire time. Wanted to return it to you when I found you again." He paused to watch Obi-Wan's face wonder at the stone. "Sorry it took me so long. With everything happening, I never got the chance until now."

Obi-Wan brushed the top of the stone with his thumb. The little red veins glowed and the cold stone warmed at his touch. Obi-Wan couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. He remembered the first time he received the stone. He found it as a funny and odd gift, but so very much Qui-Gon to give it to him. Obi-Wan always held it whenever he became sad or anxious, a reminder to him that maybe Qui-Gon would return. The Qui-Gon he knew.

"Thanks," Obi-Wan said, closing the stone around his fingers and placing it in his pocket.

When he looked back up at Qui-Gon, the Sith Lord looked relieved. Happy to not have a stone thrown at his face as expected. Obi-Wan had no plans to throw it at him. The gift was from Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master. Not the Sith Lord. And Obi-Wan wouldn't throw away the last remnants of his late master.

Qui-Gon, however, didn't see it like that at all. "You're welcome," he said, pleased. "I’ll let be alone and be reacquainted with your room. If you need anything, um, you remember how to use that panel, right?”

Obi-Wan looked to the old panel beside the door. All the buttons that helped him communicate throughout the palace. Dooku had it installed a long time ago when he locked Obi-Wan in his room. A way for him to contact outside if he needed anything so that he wouldn’t die.

He nodded. “I do.”

Satisfied, Qui-Gon departed, closing the door behind him to give Obi-Wan the privacy he craved. Although, Obi-Wan knew better that he had complete privacy. Eyes and ears were everywhere.

Once he was sure Qui-Gon would not return, Obi-Wan slipped into the chair at his desk. He pulled out the river stone, twirling it in his fingers. The river stone’s red vines shined brighter, welcoming Obi-Wan’s presence after their separation. A small pulse energized from the stone, coming alive in his palm.

After all these years being dormant, it came back to life for him. 


	40. Hope

The day was long. After the morning, Obi-Wan spent his time with Anakin, assisting Anakin in reprogramming his new holovideo. In Anakin’s excitement, Obi-Wan  _almost_ forgot their predicament. If servants were bustling in and out of the room, bringing food and other items to them, then Obi-Wan would have thought they were away on Naboo. Instead, they were locked inside a glorified cage, being prodded and watched endlessly.

Qui-Gon never returned. That worried Obi-Wan a bit. Made him wonder if the Sith Lord was developing a plan, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Though it never came, Obi-Wan kept up his guard. He learned the hard way to never underestimate a Sith Lord.

Night rolled across the skies and Anakin dozed off. Obi-Wan directed Anakin to the refresher, helping him brush his teeth and clean his face in his fatigued state. At the end, Obi-Wan carried him to the bed and tucked him under the covers. Anakin rolled to his side, curling up into a little ball like he normally did.

Unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep. Too many anxieties rattled his head, keeping his imagination active and alive. He needed to release them into the Force, but it was struggle. The torrid feelings sank deep into him, relentless in not being casted away. He needed a distraction. Something to take away his restlessness. And Obi-Wan only thought of one solution.

Obi-Wan returned to the training salles. It was empty. He didn’t expect anyone to be there. It was too late at night for the likes of Qui-Gon or Dooku to be prowling the corridors. Obi-Wan’s guards stood at attention next to the door. They didn’t even flinch when Obi-Wan took up a staff, the same one he used with Qui-Gon. He stood in front of the training droids, contemplating if he should turn on one or two. He decided on two as he considered one to be too easy for him.

Once situated, Obi-Wan activated the training droids.

Leap. Duck. Roll. Dodge. Parry.

He threw up his staff and blocked the first fire. He spun the staff in his hands. Eyes vigilant on the two training droids charging at him. The droids gave him no leeway, doing their best to keep him from dismantling them. Obi-Wan stayed his ground, dodging or blocking the droids' attempts to strike him.

He somersaulted underneath one of the droids, popping up to block another bolt near his shoulder. He couldn't keep running around in circles. That would only let the droids win.

Obi-Wan retreated, one step behind the other as he studied the droid's movements. His elbow nearly avoided a bolt, and he tucked it close to his side as he kept up his staff. Droids were not particularly clever. They were programmed, ordered to follow instructions. Cannot think on their own. That flaw was the only thing Obi-Wan had going for him.

He needed to get the droids closer together. Or at least one of them. Deciding on a course of action, Obi-Wan eased in his defense techniques, purposefully acting exhausted to lure the droids to him. The training droids edged closer, shooting out bolts left and right to the point they were nearly on top of Obi-Wan. In the exact position he wanted.

He ducked and raised his staff up. Using the Force, he twirled his staff fast to create a fan. The staff struck both droids, hitting them hard to shatter them against the wall. The training droids laid in broken pieces, defeated.

Obi-Wan exhaled deeply as he rose back up. He won.

He took a few deep breaths, feeling a little better upon each exhale. Not enough to keep him at peace, but enough to possible get at least two hours of sleep. First, though, he needed to clean up his mess. Obi-Wan walked over to the dismantled droids. He mulled over the idea of handing the broken droids to Anakin to fix when he became distracted by a suffocating presence that zapped out all warmth he felt earlier in his victory.

He looked behind him, to the doors, and found Dooku. The Sith Lord stood with his arms folded in front, a critical glare fixed on Obi-Wan like he was evaluating a new lightsaber rather than a person.

Dooku must have finished his assessment for he strolled further into the salle. "I see you have no qualms entering the salle on your own accord."

“You never gave explicit orders that we had to ask, Master," Obi-Wan cringed at acknowledging him as his master once again. "And Qui-Gon gave me permission to come whenever I want.”

“Did he now?" Dooku raised his silver brows. "And he said you could use a staff in your practice?”

Obi-Wan looked down at the staff in his hand. "It's harmless."

“I know.”

Obi-Wan's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "Must I ask permission to use it?"

“No," Dooku responded. "It's there for yours and Anakin's benefit. Training purposes. How does one expect to learn saberplay without some sort of weapon in hand?”

_Then what was the interrogation for?_  Obi-Wan wanted to ask, but knew better than to get snippy with Dooku. The Sith Lord was searching for something. Obi-Wan just hadn't figured it out yet. Best to make an exit to avoid it. "I won't take up anymore of your time," Obi-Wan said to Dooku, bowing as expected, but despised. "I'll be on—"

“Nonsense," Dooku denied Obi-Wan his chance to escape. "I watched you fight off those droids. Seemed like child's play for you. How do you expect to improve if you aren't given any challenges?”

"I added an extra droid," Obi-Wan deadpanned, nudging to the two broken droids pieces.

Dooku didn't even acknowledge it. He lifted his hand and Obi-Wan's staff was ripped from his grip as it flew straight to Dooku's palm. Then, he tossed it aside and unclipped something from his belt. A cold, coalesced matter built up in Obi-Wan's gut.

A lightsaber.

Dooku's dark eyes shimmered as he revealed the lightsaber in his hand. Obi-Wan peered at the lightsaber, noticing the subtle designs. It wasn't as elegant as other lightsabers. Simple and practical. Not at all Dooku's style.

He peered a little closer at the weapon, only to have his blood freeze and eyes widened. It was  _his_  lightsaber! Dooku must have stolen it from the Jedi before leaving. And decided to hold it over Obi-Wan.

“I see you recognize this lightsaber," he observed, turning the lightsaber in his hand. "You want it. To strike me down and free yourself." Dooku's grin stretched across his face, humored by thoughts of his murder. "Here.”

Dooku tossed the weapon and Obi-Wan instantly caught it. His fingers curled around the hilt, welcoming the familiar grip. But he didn't allow a reprieve to rejoice in the reunion. Obi-Wan's thumb slid over the button and the blue blade shot out, hissing its battle cry.

Dooku didn't even flinch. "Go ahead."

It was a trick. Dooku left himself exposed. Being vulnerable was a sign of weakness and Dooku detested weakness of all sorts. Obi-Wan's eyes shifted around the dojo, searching and feeling for any flares in the Force to use as a warning. He crouched, sliding a step backwards as he surveyed the layout. Was another training droid floating behind him? No, he didn't hear the buzzing sounds of robotics.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except for Dooku's calm, relaxed demeanor. "What are you waiting for boy?" he said. "Isn't this what you wanted? A weapon to strike me down? To free yourself and Skywalker of pain and misery?"

Yes. He did want that. He wanted Dooku dead, or at least, stopped. But Obi-Wan couldn't get shake off the feeling that something wasn't right with the scene. Dooku was taunting him to fight. To strike and kill him.

Obi-Wan slipped another foot back. "What's your game?"

“Game?”

“You want something," Obi-Wan clarified, studying the Force around the Sith Lord, "or to at least prove a point.”

Dooku's smile widened. It was the only warning Obi-Wan had before he heard a blare in the Force. Dooku dropped his own lightsaber into his hand and struck near Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan blocked, but he quickly spun out of Dooku's war path. The Sith Lord was ferocious in his attacks. Accurate and deadly, his dance left Obi-Wan in a desperate (and sloppily) fight to save himself from injury. He countered all of Dooku's strokes, shoving back to give him space to recuperate and think, but Dooku never let up. No pauses. No hesitations. And Obi-Wan couldn't keep up. Soon, Obi-Wan found himself disarmed and kicked right into his chest that knocked him flat on his back. 

Knowing he could not linger on the floor for long, Obi-Wan ready to push himself off only for his face to meet the burning end of Dooku's lightsaber. The lightsaber drew closer and the tip of Obi-Wan's nose burned under the heat. He tilted his head back, moving away from the lightsaber to avoid his face being slashed open. But the lightsaber trailed after until it pinned him back on the floor, under its complete surrender. If Dooku wanted to scar his face forever, there was nothing Obi-Wan could do to prevent him.

Obi-Wan flicked his eyes up from the lightsaber to Dooku's face. Both fixed their glares onto one another, challenging and assessing the other to determine the next step. Obi-Wan determined that, no matter what, he would not look away from Dooku. He would not give the Sith the satisfaction of total submission.

Dooku noted the defiance. Those cruel eyes mocking his hopes and dreams. And that smile. Smooth and knowing like all the control belonged to him. Victory in his hands, Dooku savored Obi-Wan's fall an extra minute before he powered the blade down, leaving a little sunburn on Obi-Wan's nose.

Obi-Wan stayed down only for a second before he was whisked off his feet by invisible binds. Hoisted in the air, he became leveled with Dooku's face, toes barely touching the floor. The Sith Lord took his time assessing him. "You share Qui-Gon's defiance," he stated. "There is anger within you too. Controlled anger."

Obi-Wan did his best to glower at the man. It only made Dooku's smirk wider and crueler. "Good. You completed your first step," he said and he released Obi-Wan from his captivity. Obi-Wan dropped, grateful to have his feet on the floor. Dooku hardly looked at him as he moved away.

"Once you shower,” Dooku said, using the Force to collect Obi-Wan’s discarded lightsaber back to his hands, “I want to see you in my office."

* * *

While the pirates and Jedi sat around to make plans, Padmé played the diligent queen role and visited her guest. Satine was placed in one of the palace’s rooms to heal and rest from her escape. Since last night’s unexpected meeting, Padmé hadn’t seen her. She was informed of her medical updates, but nothing else. She wanted to speak to Satine in person. Once time became available, she knocked on the door and waited for a response. A quiet, but welcoming response was returned.

Padmé entered and found the Duchess of Mandalore propped on her bed, staring wistfully out the scene of waterfalls. It was beautiful view. Padmé never got old of them.

She walked over to Satine’s bedside, taking a seat in the available chair. “It’s good to see you are awake, Duchess.”

Satine drew her eyes away from the waterfalls to Padmé. “Please, call me Satine,” she said. “I’m afraid I lost my title as ‘Duchess’.”

“Not to me,” Padmé assured her. “You will always be recognized as the Duchess here on Naboo.”

Satine smiled through her exhaustion. “You may be the only one," she said, sighing in longing for the past. "What is happening? Are the Jedi going to rescue Obi-Wan?"

Padmé nodded. "They are working out details with our newfound allies."

“Allies?”

“Pirates.”

Satine's brows shot up her forehead. "Are you serious?" she gasped and when Padmé gave her a serious expression, she shuddered. "Pirates! I can't believe it. The Jedi are trusting pirates?"

“This particular pirate owes a life debt to Obi-Wan," Padmé explained. "He is our only hope on getting onto Serenno.”

Satine lightly snorted. "There is no honor among pirates. They will stab another behind their back if it meant more money."

“This pirate seems different,” Padmé said, but she hardly conveyed that assertion. Even she worried that Hondo may not follow through on his honor if the Siths offered more money. Nonetheless, Padmé kept the hope that the pirates would not betray them.

Satine did not share her optimism. "Then I only wish he does not betray our hope," she said. "We all need it."

Padmé agreed. They were entering dark times. Padmé felt it in her bones. The final stage was being set up, determining the ultimate champion. Padmé wanted their side to win. The galaxy needed them to win. "As long as hope is not lost,” she said, “then there is a chance we can win.”

“You have great passion, Padmé,” Satine noted. “You remind me of myself when I was younger.”

Padmé hesitated, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or naivety. “Do you disagree?”

Satine shook her head. “No, of course not. Hope is what kept me going all those years ago when my planet was at war,” she said, her awareness clouded by old memories.

Padmé watched the Duchess turned in her bed, fingers nimble as she knotted the bed covers. Her face strained, eyes reddening as water brimmed at the surface. She took unsteady breaths, slow and painful. “I feel like I’m back in that place again. Hiding in a cave. Darkness all around and no light to give any warmth,” she murmured. “Such cold nights. Long, cold nights. I thought I would die there. I was prepared to die there.

“But Obi-Wan—that stubborn man!—refused to let me go cold or hungry,” she said with a fond smile. “He always offered his servings to me whenever my stomach growled. Gave me his robe every time I shivered. Shielded me when blasters were fired and held me afterward when I cried.”

Satine returned to Padmé. “Have you ever been in love Padmé?”

The question threw Padmé off. “Uh… I mean, I love my family. Parents. Sister.”

“But have you loved another?”

Padmé shook her head.

“You’re lucky,” Satine muttered and then, a moment afterward, added, “and also unlucky, I suppose. Love is fickle and deadly. As rulers, we have to put duty above all else. Duty and honor are our true loves. Not another.”

Padmé sucked in a deep breath. She understood the strictures and duties of serving ones people. Selfishness was not allowed. One must sacrifice their personal life for their career, and that included any notion of having a marriage or family.

Satine sighed heavily, turning back to the window. “I broke that vow,” she confessed to Padmé. “I fell in love with Obi-Wan and he loved me in return. Our love was real and passionate and equal in every way possible. And it was forbidden.

“One may call it a moment of weakness or impurity,” Satine continued, waving her hand dismissively as if someone else said them out-loud, “but I am not one. Obi-Wan gave me the hope I needed to keep going, even when all seemed lost. So, on those long, cold nights, in a cave filled with complete darkness, my hope never wavered because I knew I had Obi-Wan standing right beside me.”

Her eyes found Padmé’s once more. “No matter how dark the moment is, love and hope will find a way,” she said, convicted in her words. “The Sith will not have a chance to rise to power. We won’t let them.”

Padmé understood. A twinge of jealously grew within her, but she smothered it dead. Satine was a lucky woman to have Obi-Wan in her life, to be gifted with good-hearted feelings. It didn’t matter wherever Satine was, she always knew she had Obi-Wan. Padmé wished for the same. Maybe one day, she might experience the same love Satine and Obi-Wan have for one another. Yes, maybe one day she will have someone at her side even when the galaxy fell apart.

“Yes, you’re right,” Padmé said after a quiet reflection. “We won’t let the Sith tear the galaxy apart and destroy our friends.” She clasped a hand over Satine’s hand, initiating a promise between them. “It’s time we return the favor.”

Satine smiled and squeezed back. “Never underestimate the power of a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Never,” Padmé agreed and she slipped her hand from Satine’s. She rose from her seat. “I should let you rest. The healers say you need another ten hours to purge out the last bit toxins from your body.”

Padmé bid Satine a good bye and well-wishes. She left the room and informed the healers to report to her if anything went wrong. Then she retreated to her throne room, where she sat and quietly debated. It felt like it was days ago that her and her council sat in the room to debate Naboo’s involvement in the upcoming battle.

The council already came to a conclusion, but Padmé’s heart had not. It warred over the two sides, each arguing on its behalf. Yet, Padme already knew which side she chose. Amidala may not agree, but Padmé wasn’t answering on her behalf nor was she fighting for her either.

She got up from her throne and marched to her chambers. She passed Sab é on her way out. “Come with me,” she said. “There is work to be done.”

* * *

Dooku stared at the board before him, satisfied by the development. He took a quick glimpse across, spying on Kenobi in deep concentration. The young man sat in his chair, hunched over as he pondered his next move. An hour came and went. No words passed between them. Only pieces.

Despite being in the dead of night, neither Dooku nor Obi-Wan appeared any less exhausted. Not surprising considering they were both insomniacs. Night was their day, unlike Qui-Gon who loved early mornings. The night was one thing Kenobi and he shared between themselves. That and a good game of dejarik with a glass of wine.

Kenobi took a breath and reached a hand for his Ghhk piece. He moved it across and up next to Dooku’s own Ng’ok.

Dooku hummed. An unprecedented move. Not a very smart move. Dooku could now easily crush Kenobi and send his army off the board. “Interesting play,” he purred, raising a silver brow to Kenobi. “I wonder, though, if you have thought it through.”

Kenobi didn’t even acknowledge his words. He kept his eyes on the board, indifferent. “I’ll improvise when needed,” was all Kenobi said.

Dooku huffed just short of a chuckle. He was going to enjoy his victory. He moved his Ng’ok accordingly, striking down Kenobi’s Ghhk and Kintan strider, and sending them straight off the board with a simple wave of the Force. “Disappointing,” he murmured and he was honest. He thought Kenobi would do better.

Kenobi, however, only grinned. “I imagine so.”

Kenobi moved his own Ng’ok into position, left empty and vulnerable by Dooku’s previous attack on the Kenobi’s pawn. Dooku watched as Kenobi pushed his piece into place. A smug, victorious smile bloomed on Kenobi’s face as his Ng’ok piece declared the territory as his.

The Sith Lord growled low as he came to the dawning realization that he had been played. Dooku searched the board for any play that would override Kenobi’s placement, but nothing helped him in one move. The game was certainly leaning to Kenobi’s victory.

Dooku dark eyes flipped to him. “Ah—so you have kept in mind what I’ve taught you years ago.”

Kenobi cringed.

“Still sore from the past," Dooku deducted from Obi-Wan's silence. He pressed his pawn onward. "It is a vital lesson one must learn the hard way.”

Dooku insured the young man never forgot those lessons. When Kenobi reached his rebellious adolescent stage, Dooku had to stomp out the fire before it reached a certain level of fury. One of these moments included when he and Kenobi got into a heated argument about the importance of sacrifices. Dooku claimed that not all lives were important and thus, not needed saving. Kenobi thought differently and argued on the behalf of the lesser individuals. Dooku squashed that notion out of the boy by throwing him into situations that required him to pick one over another until Kenobi subdued in his arguments.

Kenobi’s defiance, however, seemed to have return in the years he was on the run. "There are better ways to learn than through pain."

“Of course," Dooku said, "but only the deepest pain empowers us to grow into our highest self.”

Kenobi frowned. "That's not a good enough excuse to abuse a person."

“I need no excuse nor was it abuse," Dooku countered. "I trained you in realistic ways so that you were better prepared for the galaxy’s harsh lifestyles rather than the ideologies the Order prescribed to their youths. You have become the very man you are today because of my teachings.” 

Kenobi crossed his arms. “I am the man I am today because of the hope I carry,” he countered. “Not from your  _teachings_.” The young man shoved his next piece into a new position.

Dooku surveyed Kenobi with contempt. He should be grateful! Dooku spared his life and took it upon himself to train Kenobi when he was a boy. That alone was a great honor. An honor the boy did his best to disrespect. Yet, Kenobi’s attempts to disregard all of Dooku's teachings failed. His lessons resonated deep within the young man. Dooku already took note of the techniques and manners Kenobi displayed, all pointing to the qualities Dooku instilled in him as a boy. 

"Hope? Hope does nothing than inflate one's dreams into oblivion," Dooku dismissed Kenobi's statement, "Hope didn't give you the necessary skills to keep you and Skywalker alive from bounty hunters or Jedi," Dooku studied the board and moved a piece. "I did. I instructed you on how to survive and fight. You're only alive because of me. Otherwise, you would have died within days on your own. And Skywalker too."

Kenobi's eyes narrowed. "I'm alive because I refused to give up."

"You're alive because I allow it."

"And why do you?" Kenobi inquired. It was obvious that Dooku held a degree of acrimony against him long before he ran away. "You have Anakin. There is no need to keep me alive or at least, comfortable." Kenobi gestured to the expensive attire and the glass of wine he's left untouched. "Others have been killed for far less than what I have done. So—why do you allow me to live?"

Dooku's elegant hands picked the stem of his wine glass. He didn't take a drink. He cagily observed Kenobi over the rim, thinking again of how different the young man had become. He turned into the very man Dooku wanted and needed.

He finally took his drink and returned the glass to the table. His eyes never lifting from Kenobi's stern face. "You're quite right. I have killed men for far less, but none of them were of great importance," he said. "None of them were going to shape the galaxy."

Kenobi stifled a snort of incredibility. "If I recall correctly, you never thought very much of me."

"Times change. People change."

"But not you," Kenobi turned back to the game and moved his piece. It took out one of Dooku's strongholds, solidifying his victory. Kenobi, however, didn’t smug in his victory for the true battle wasn’t the board itself. It was the battle of wits playing this very moment. "You always wanted to rule the galaxy and wipe out the Jedi Order. That has never changed.

"Living here, I always wondered what my purpose was," continued Kenobi. "Why did you and Qui-Gon keep me? It baffled me considering it was blatantly obvious I had no desire to join your fight. It wasn't until I met Anakin that I realized what I was supposed to do with my life."

Dooku nodded. He too didn't consider Kenobi to be of any value until he met Skywalker. That was when all the questionable pieces fit into the puzzle. "Your place in the galaxy wasn't clear at the beginning," he agreed, "but it became apparent soon enough. That is why you are alive. You are needed in this upcoming war. I have foreseen it as did others."

Kenobi caustically raised his brows. "You plan to use Anakin and I as weapons then? Your attack dogs?"

"You?" Dooku darkly chuckled as his lips curled into his enigmatic smile. "No. You aren't nearly as powerful as Skywalker."

It was a scoring hit on Kenobi's self-worth, but the young man shrugged it off. "Then I am merely a bargaining chip for Anakin?"

"In a way, but no."

"What does that mean?"

Dooku regarded him, staring down his aristocratic nose at the young man. "To quote another—a weapon is useless on its own," he said, his inflection edged with irony. "It needs a soldier."

Kenobi went still. Dooku drew in Kenobi's fear, feeding his ego and dominance over Kenobi. He may have lost the silly game, but won the true battle between them. "Skywalker is our chosen weapon," he continued, eyeing the young man in morbid delight, "and you—the soldier."

Kenobi shoved his chair back when he shot to his feet. He was shaking. From fear or anger, it did not matter to Dooku. He got the young man where he wanted. But Kenobi refused to surrender. He shook his head. His throat tightened. "I won't do it."

"Really?" jeered Dooku, folding his hands on his lap. "May I remind you that you already swore an oath to serve us?"

The young man's face twisted in disgust upon remembering that forsaken vow he did to save his lover. He folded his arms, his hands hugging his sides. "Qui-Gon never said..."

Dooku inwardly groaned. He told Qui-Gon multiple times that he was being far too lenient with Kenobi. They needed a tough, disciplined apprentice. A follower who would obey their every command. But Qui-Gon kept babying him and indulging Kenobi with false hopes. It took Dooku a great amount of time to cultivate Kenobi into the rigid figure he needed. "Qui-Gon is well aware of your status," he brushed aside Kenobi's rebuttal. "At the very beginning, he assured me that you would be a great asset to our cause. He wasn't wrong. Your potential needs refinement, but a few  _lessons_  will sort that out quick enough."

Kenobi's hands grabbed the edge of the table. He leaned in, eyes fixed on Dooku in cold fury. "I will never—"

"You will do whatever we command you to do," snapped Dooku. He rose to his feet in a single, fluid movement, towering over Kenobi. "If you need motivation, I know a handful of candidates who will be the perfect specimen to help us figure out the much pain a being can bare before death. Maybe I'll have your duchess be our first?"

Shoulders squared and chin tilted upward, Kenobi's eyes burned as he glared across the board. They faced off. The Force thundering around them like a pair of drums, beating into the vast abyss. They stood for what seemed like hours, but only a minute passed before the bravado faded. Kenobi's eyes faltered, casting downwards in acknowledgment that he lost. Dooku revered the surrender, straightening his shoulders back as he basked in his glory. 

"Good. You're learning already," Dooku said and he gestured to the door. The door opened and Kenobi's guards entered. "Return him to his chambers and see to it that he does not try to leave the rest of the night."

The droids obeyed, marching over and with their weapons, forced Kenobi to comply. Kenobi didn't resist. With one last disdainful look, Kenobi strode out of the room.

The door closed and Dooku returned to his seat and his wine. He chuckled as he sipped his drink. How odd that a scrawny, awkward boy became a confidant, sharp man. Years ago, Dooku never cared for him. Kenobi was an indulgence for Qui-Gon. Otherwise, Qui-Gon wouldn't join him and his old apprentice was adamant on keeping the boy. He swore Kenobi would be valuable to them in the future. Dooku doubted, but then Kenobi showed his resilience and tenacity, traits Dooku admired and he soon understood what Qui-Gon saw in the boy. And then, Qui-Gon proved right again when it became apparent that the Chosen One developed a Force bond with Kenobi upon their first meeting.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to be a great soldier for the upcoming war. Dooku already foreseen it. With Kenobi and Skywalker, Dooku would be unstoppable and crush the Republic and Jedi Order once and for all. 


	41. Her

Anakin woke the next morning in a fright! He frantically ran from one room to the next in his suite, praying to find Obi-Wan in one of the rooms. He did not. Panic rose within him, threatening to burst as a flurry of horrific scenarios mocked him. He tried to breath. In. Out. In. Out.

He shut his eyes and concentrated. He reached through the Force to Obi-Wan, following the connecting bond. A sigh of relief slipped from his parted lips when he sensed Obi-Wan was well and retired in his bedroom. Someone must have sent him there because Obi-Wan wouldn't leave him alone.

Anakin went to the door to go to Obi-Wan only to find his way blocked by droids and... Abe.

Abe politely addressed Anakin. "Good morning, young master," he said, bowing. "I hope you had a pleasant sleep. I am here to discuss your day's activities."

Anakin wrinkled his nose, staring up at the manservant with disdain. He reached over for the panel and punched the button. The door slid shut and Anakin promptly locked it. Returning to the common space, Anakin sat on one of the couches, calling for Obi-Wan through the bond to get his attention. To come rescue him from these fiends.

He didn’t get an answer. Obi-Wan was nearby, but unavailable. That much Anakin sensed.

Unsure what to do, Anakin did what he thought Obi-Wan would instruct him—stay put until he came around for him. So, Anakin stayed exactly where he was, his toes wiggling in anticipation for Obi-Wan's appearance. Minutes ticked by and Anakin kept his eyes on the door. He listened too, hoping to hear some kind of loud confrontation.

But, he heard nothing and Obi-Wan didn’t arrive.

Before Anakin contacted Obi-Wan again, the door to his rooms opened. Anakin sucked in a sharp breath, jumping to his feet in ready to sprint to the workbench for any tools he could use as a weapon. But, rather than Abe or the droids, the person who entered was Qui-Gon Jinn.

The Sith Lord took one, quick glimpse at him. "Hungry?"

Minutes later, Anakin found himself seated across a small table in another part of the palace. They weren’t eating in the main dining hall like last time. Less extravagant and less open, keeping the occupants in close quarters.

The table was filled with small plates and bowls of breakfast foods that Anakin never knew existed. He eyed them suspiciously, not trusting their outer appearance. Much like the Sith Lord sitting across him. Qui-Gon ate his breakfast, nibbling on some dry bread and drinking tea. He was reading something on a holopad, brows furrowing deep to the center as he continued to read. He finished reading and slipped the holopad in his large pocket.

Qui-Gon noticed Anakin’s empty plate and offered him the bread bowl. "Eat, young one," he advised. "Shouldn't let food go to waste."

Anakin stared at his empty plate to the bowls of food surrounding it. "No thank you," he muttered in one breath. "I'm not hungry."

Qui-Gon peered down his nose to him. "You need to eat,” he said, pushing another bowl of unrecognizable food to him. “Otherwise, you won’t have enough energy to keep up that pout of yours.”

“I’m not pouting!”

Qui-Gon lightly chuckled. “I’m only teasing,” he said followed by a pregnant pause. “You’re worried about Obi-Wan.”

Not a question. A statement. There was no point in denying the truth. “He wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“Is he usually?” Qui-Gon asked to which Anakin nodded his affirmation. “I’m sure Obi-Wan’s fine. He’s not a morning person. There were days when he was younger I used the Force to dangle him upside to get him to wake up," he smiled again. “He’ll come out of his room closer to noon.”

Anakin didn’t think he would. He was aware Obi-Wan preferred to sleep in rather than wake to birds chirping, but this wasn’t Obi-Wan’s normal behavior. Not answering his calls was a sign that something was off. That something was wrong.

Qui-Gon must have noticed his doubt for he reached across the small table and took Anakin by the shoulder. “He’s all right, little one. If he was in trouble, you and I would know. He’s not. Just…brooding,” Qui-Gon said with mild exasperation. “Let him be and he’ll come around when he’s ready.”

“Why is he brooding then?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t take much for him to do so,” he commented, taking another bite of his bread. “If it makes you feel better, I can go check in on him while you eat. Get him to come and join us?”

That didn't make Anakin feel any better. He picked up his head and eyed the Sith Lord carefully. "Why do you care?"

“Excuse me?”

“Sith Lords aren't supposed to care," Anakin elucidated. "You only look after yourself and your own interest. So—why are you trying to act like you do?”

His question stupefied Qui-Gon for the Sith Lord fell speechless far longer than Anakin expected. Qui-Gon set his breakfast aside, fingers folding on top of one another as he rested them on the table. "Life is complicated, Anakin," he began. "It's a lot murkier than what songs and stories portray. Not everything is black or white.

“I imagine Obi-Wan told you differently," Qui-Gon continued, his tone casual and nonthreatening. "That there is a right and a wrong and that, sometimes, the right answer is the hardest to follow. Am I correct?”

Anakin had gripped the edge of his seat. Obi-Wan had said something along those lines to him a few times. Anakin didn't vocally confirm Qui-Gon's assumption, but the Sith Lord already knew the answer.  
Qui-Gon chuckled, the laughter reaching his eyes. "Obi-Wan always followed a narrow path," he said. "Made life explicitly difficult than it should be. I always told him as a boy he needed to relax. To not focus on his anxieties so much, but... he's stubborn. Hardly listens when he's dead-set on something."

He reached for his tea and took a drink, satisfied of its warmth. "Myself? I like to have some leeway. Give myself leg room when I walk. I don't give ultimatums. Why? Because life is not a single ultimatum," he quietly explained and then, he gave a hard look to Anakin. "Now—because Obi-Wan and I have disagreements, doesn't mean he's my enemy. I still care for him. That won't change.”

Anakin eyes narrowed, wary. “Why not?”

“Because he’s like a son to me,” Qui-Gon answered without missing a single beat. “I raised him since he was a boy. Know a lot of things about him that even he doesn’t know about himself. Bonds like that… they don’t break easily.” Qui-Gon leaned over the table and crooked a finger to get Anakin closer to hear his next words. “Tell me Anakin—could you truly hate Obi-Wan? Even when you disagree on something important?”

The word ‘no’ instantly popped in Anakin’s head. Not because he believed there would be a point in his lifetime that he would truly despise Obi-Wan. No, he never thought of it possible because he and Obi-Wan would never truly reach the same level of animosity as Obi-Wan has with Qui-Gon and Dooku. They were on the same side and always would be.

“No,” Anakin proudly replied. “But, we’re not like you. We don't betray each other.”

A bit of mirth laced in Qui-Gon's expression. “Is that what Obi-Wan told you? That I betrayed him?”

“He said you were supposed to guide him in the ways of the Force, but then failed him."

"I didn't fail him."

"That's not what he said," Anakin argued. "He said you swore to protect and teach him, but you threw it all away for power."

"That's not how it went," Qui-Gon's tone was sharper than Anakin had ever heard. "I didn't throw him away! Everything I have done was in his best interests."

A deep crevice formed in between Anakin’s eyebrows as he pursed his lips in question. "How?"

"What?"

"How?" Anakin repeated, louder. "How is torturing him in his best interest?"

The Sith Lord rolled his eyes. "I have never—"

"Dooku has," Anakin interrupted. "You know he has. So, why do you let it happen?”

Qui-Gon went silent, too shocked by the accusation to come up with a lame excuse. Anakin smirked in triumph on outwitting him. He got the Sith Lord backed into a corner. Obi-Wan would have been proud.

The Sith Lord unfolded himself, straightening up in his seat. "I don't approve Dooku's brand of discipline, but I cannot argue that it yields results," he said. "Obi-Wan's pride and stubbornness got him into more trouble than necessary. I did my best to help and shield him from all that, but... again, stubborn boy."

"You blame Obi-Wan?"

"I blame us both." Qui-Gon rubbed his hands over his face and sighed deeply. "A lot of things went wrong between us. Things could have been better said or done, but that's how life is I suppose. Doesn't change how I feel. Obi-Wan is still a son to me, much like you are as well. I'll always do whatever is best for you, even if you cannot see it right away."

He got up from the table. "Best you eat," he said, gesturing to the untouched plates and bowls of food. "Or else you may not get any food until well after noon."

Qui-Gon pushed his chair in and walked straight to the doors. He paused briefly, whispering final instructions to Abe and the droids. Probably something about keep an eye on him or send him straight to the dungeons to be tortured for his misbehavior. Anakin didn’t know. All he knew was that he would not like whatever Qui-Gon ordered Abe to do.

Abe nodded and bowed, opening the door for Qui-Gon to leave. The door closed, leaving Anakin alone at the table with the exception of his prison guards.

Abe hurried over to him. “Eat your breakfast then I must escort you to the library.”

“The library?” What was in the library? Or was it a codename for something else?

Abe nodded. “Yes, your instructor will be arriving in an hour.”

“What instructor?”

“For schooling,” Abe answered. “You are not yet eighteen. You still have some schooling to finish.”

Oh. Are they serious? “Obi-Wan teaches me.”

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Abe said, trying to sound apologetically, but failing miserably. “He’s busy with his own schedule. Now—finish your breakfast and then get changed. Best to have a first good impression.”

Anakin grumbled under his breath at the absurdity of attending a private tutoring. He wholeheartedly doubted that he would make a good impression with the instructor. Mostly because he planned to not be the best student. Once he drives the instructor away, then maybe he’ll get to spend time with Obi-Wan instead of strangers.

A plop of goo landed on his plate. Anakin curled his nostrils away. Abe, holding a spoonful of another dish, dropped the contents next to it. “Eat! You need nutrients!”

Anakin only turned his head away. Where’s Obi-Wan when he needed him?

* * *

Obi-Wan didn’t sleep at all since he was unceremoniously shoved back into his cell. The droids must have been given strict orders in regards to him. Not once did they feel the need to give him space. They practically boxed him in between them as they marched him through the corridors.

Once inside his cell, Obi-Wan fretted over the information he learned. All this time, he was being trained to not simply be an apprentice, but to be a soldier for Qui-Gon and Dooku. To be the person who would unleash Anakin and an army onto the innocent civilians. They wanted him to do their dirty work. All of it! They wanted him to corrupt Anakin. Turn him into a weapon!

All the revelations caused Obi-Wan to spew in the toilet. Even then it didn’t cleanse the poison from his systems.

Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Deep breaths.

Obi-Wan muted his Force presence. He didn’t want his distress to affect Anakin’s well-being. No need to worry Anakin as the boy often escalated his fears into hysteria. And that led to trouble. Obi-Wan had no wish to bring trouble down onto Anakin.

He watched night brightened to morning. No one entered his cell. Not the medical droids. Or guards. Or, more importantly, Sith Lords.

He leaned up against the wall and took stock of his cell. He noticed the crib was removed. That was no surprise. Obi-Wan expected they would immediately remove it. The next thing was his desk was cleared and new books were added to his collection. Obi-Wan reviewed the titles and then promptly yanked them off the shelves. One by one, he tore into the book, ripping sheet after sheet until all the new additions were destroyed and his bedroom resembled the mountain peaks outside his window.

As he finished destroying the last book, he smiled at the littered sight of military strategic books. A small rebellion that may have damaging consequences, but he wasn’t in the mood to care.

His solitary ended when his doors reopened. Obi-Wan assumed the guards were instructed to take him back to Dooku for another round of torture. After all, Dooku didn’t seemed entirely pleased that he beat him in dejarik.

But, it wasn’t the guards nor Dooku.

“Why am I not surprised?” Obi-Wan muttered when Qui-Gon took stock of the mess Obi-Wan made with the ruined books. “What do you want now?”

Qui-Gon lifted his gaze from the floor to Obi-Wan. “Well, for starters, you can ease up on your tone,” he said, “and second, what happened here?” He gestured to the ripped pages showering the floor.

Obi-Wan half-shrugged. “I didn’t like them.”

“So you went on a murderous rampage and tore them into pieces,” Qui-Gon poised with a small huff. “That’s not like you.”

No. It wasn’t.

Qui-Gon stepped around the mess, glancing from it to him. “Care to tell me what this is really all about? Or would you prefer I guess my way to the answer?”

“I know what you promised.”

That forced Qui-Gon to halt in his procession. “What?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t fooled by the blank expression. “You disgust me,” he sibilated, turning away from the Sith Lord. “To think I even once believed you _cared…_ ”

“I think I missed something,” Qui-Gon said, looking lost as to what Obi-Wan rambled on. “What’s wrong?”

“ _You_!” Obi-Wan yelled. “You and your… lies, manipulations!”

Qui-Gon tried to get a word in, but Obi-Wan refused to let him. No more lies. No more half-truths. No more. “I will not become the soldier you promised Dooku,” he asserted. “That’s my promise!”

Qui-Gon only blinked and swallowed a big breath. “You spoke to Dooku,” he deduced. “What did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

“Did he?” Qui-Gon darkly inquired. “Perhaps not everything.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No—no! I’m not listening to more lies.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Qui-Gon swore, but again, Obi-Wan hardly trusted his words. “Now—what did Dooku tell you?”

“He told me the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That you promised him I would be a soldier for his war,” Obi-Wan responded in a snarl as he searched Qui-Gon’s face for flickers of remorse or truth. “That I would use Anakin to destroy the galaxy.”

Hearing his own voice say those words brought Obi-Wan to shudder. A chill trickled down his spine. He sharply inhaled and moved away from Qui-Gon. “That’s it, isn’t? The promise you made that was more important than the one you made to me. You promised Dooku I would be an asset.”

“No.”

Obi-Wan flicked his head up, but didn’t look to Qui-Gon. “No, what?” he accused. “It’s true though. You wanted me to be a soldier for your war.”

A short pause. “Yes, Dooku wanted to train you into a soldier,” Qui-Gon confessed, “but that wasn’t the promise.”

Everything slowed down. Obi-Wan turned on his heel and fixed Qui-Gon with a skeptical gaze. “Oh? Dare I even ask or will it make matters worse?” he mockingly asked. “So, what promise _did_ you make to Dooku?”

The Sith Lord sighed, folding his arms into his dark robes. “The promise has nothing to do with Dooku.”

“That’s not what Dooku said.”

“Dooku was not present when I made the promise,” Qui-Gon’s voice was sharp and yet, haunted. “I took a vow, procured from me with her last breath.”

Obi-Wan’s brows formed a quizzical stance. “Her?”

The Sith Lord barely nodded. “Yes. Her,” he confirmed and he suddenly aged rapidly before Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Obi-Wan began to piece the mystery together, but he needed the final confirmation. “Who?” he asked, but he already knew who. “Who was it?”

Qui-Gon responded with only one word. “Tahl.”

The name swept the entire room into silence. So long had the name fell from Qui-Gon’s lips. Since her tragic death, he hardly ever said her name out loud, avoided it like was a curse. Obi-Wan remembered the night of her death. He even remembered finding her first, eyesight gone and blood covering her hands. He didn’t want to leave her. Not when she was in pain. He cried for her as he held onto her hand. And as he cried, she hummed. It was a gentle, kind melody that made him relax. The same song she used when he was being difficult in going to the Halls of Healing. The song stopped him from crying, but the pain remained. He wanted to talk. He needed to talk about her after her Jedi pyre, but Qui-Gon was in no mood to discuss Tahl.

Even now, Obi-Wan sensed the heartbreak within him. “Tahl.”

Qui-Gon soberly nodded. “Yes, she… she made me promise to not let you share our fate,” he uttered in a look of pained grief. “She wouldn’t stop begging me until I agreed. And when I did, she smiled as if she bore no pain at all and died.”

Qui-Gon glided to the window, looking out to the mountain range. His eyes glistened in the morning light. “I know I promised to train you to become a Jedi, but after that, I knew that I could not keep both promises.” He turned away from the window to look back at Obi-Wan. “I told you the truth. Everything I have ever done was in your best interests. I only wanted to protect you and staying as a Jedi, with the Republic corrupt and the Order just as corrupt, I knew I could not do so. Dooku came to me with an offer and I knew that his plan was far better for us all. I didn’t want the Jedi or the Republic to destroy you like it did her.”

Obi-Wan believed him. Perhaps, it may be the first time Qui-Gon was truly honest with him in a long time. Obi-Wan sensed through their fragile bond that deep remorse and plunging grief and knew Qui-Gon spoke in earnest to him. Didn’t mean Obi-Wan agreed.

 “It wasn’t the Jedi or the Republic who killed Tahl,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “It was Balog. Remember? You killed him.”

A dark shade fell over Qui-Gon’s face. “Not soon enough,” he muttered. “The Order did nothing and the Republic never offered assistance to New Apsolon. Tahl should not have gone alone, but the Council thought it best. They knew of the dangers and yet sent her in alone. They risked her life and for what? New Apsolon is still corrupt! The Republic and the Order did nothing. _I_ had to avenge her.”

The room chilled. The Force tightening. Qui-Gon grinded his teeth together at the flashbacks replaying in his mind. “You’re right, Obi-Wan. I killed Balog and annihilated the rest of the Absolutes. But, it couldn’t end there. Too many systems are broken. Too many corrupted individuals with power, taking advantages of others.” Qui-Gon took a seat, hands on his knees. “Tahl feared for you and I soon understood why. I had to do what I promised. Keep you safe and make you a leader of a new galaxy.”

He raised his gaze back to Obi-Wan. “I’m sorry I never told you any of this. 

The memory of Tahl deepened their bond. They both loved her and missed her. When he lived in the palace alone, without Anakin, he often dreamed of her. Sometimes when she was alive. Other times when she was covered in blood. But, every night he woke to those images, he always thought he heard her voice, calling out to him.

But right now, the sadness churned into bitter anger. Heat drew to his cheeks, flushing as he glared at Qui-Gon, who slumped in the chair, wrangled by sorrow. Obi-Wan shared no pity for the man. Only scorn. “That’s it? That is your excuse? You blame Tahl for my suffering?”

Obi-Wan jerked his head up. “No! Of course not! I told you the truth—”

“That you betrayed and brought misery upon me in _her name_?” Obi-Wan’s voice grew louder as his anger fueled his energy. “You are far crueler than Dooku. He at least is upfront with what he wants, and doesn’t drag someone’s good name but his own through the mud.”

The corners of Qui-Gon’s mouth dangerously twitched. “Watch your mouth, Obi-Wan.”

“What did you expect? That I would be grateful that you ruined my memory of Tahl?” Obi-Wan shouted back at him, but his throat made a noise that nearly resembled a cry. “Be thankful for tarnishing a good woman’s name? You didn’t honor her. You destroyed her!”

Qui-Gon shot to his feet. “Obi-Wan…” he growled in warning.

Unafraid, Obi-Wan kept up his rant. “How could you do this to her?” he cried, the wound deep that it reached his heart. “You turned your back on everything she believed in and fought for!”

Qui-Gon’s face contorted into a tight rigidity. “ _Don’t_ —”

“She died for justice and freedom, and you—you have become the very person who murdered her.”

“—I’m warning you—”

Obi-Wan continued, his hands balled into fists. He was furious! Not for himself anymore, but for Tahl. She did not deserve this legacy. She was far better than what Qui-Gon did in her name. “She would be horrified by what you’ve become! She would probably die all over again if she saw you now,” he vented. “In fact, I’m glad she’s dead. That way she didn’t have to live knowing all your atrocities were done in her name. It would have killed—”                                    

A sharp, strong pain burst on the side of Obi-Wan’s face. It was all he remembered before he fell unconscious.


	42. Too Late

Qui-Gon stared. From Obi-Wan's prone form on the floor to his hand. It was all he looked at it.

At first, the feeling was righteous. When he struck Obi-Wan and silenced his vile words, he felt powerful. The Force grew stronger within him, almost the feeling of invincibility.

Then, he looked passed his hand and saw Obi-Wan. His young apprentice laid on the floor, motionless. A blotch of red, blue, purple smeared on the side of his face, spreading from where he struck on his cheek to the rest of his face. There was no counter-attack or block. He fell crudely on the floor, banging his head against a part of the chair before landing helplessly on the floor. And when Qui-Gon took all of that in, the rush of power depleted instantly and was refilled with momentous regret.

Obi-Wan was alive. That much he sensed through their bond, but injured. By Qui-Gon's own hand. Qui-Gon inhaled deeply as he squatted beside Obi-Wan. He touched Obi-Wan's bruise to get a better assessment of the injuries. Severe bruising, dislocated jaw and a small wound from where his head hit the chair. Blood droplets speckled around his head, warning Qui-Gon that immediate medic attention was needed.

Unfortunately, his ability to heal hadn’t worked accurately in years. He was too afraid to try again on Obi-Wan, so he paged for a medic team to come. He stayed with Obi-Wan, keeping tabs on his vitals to ensure he didn’t… never mind.

The medic team arrived and handled Obi-Wan with care. Qui-Gon ordered reports to be directly to him and be updated on his condition every hour. The medic droid in charge beeped in agreement and shipped Obi-Wan away to the healing wards.

Once Obi-Wan was handled, Qui-Gon sought Dooku, finding him in his study looking over a spread of documents. When Qui-Gon walked in, Dooku peered up from a holopad. He huffed a sigh and went back to his work. “What is it this time, Qui-Gon?”

“I hit him.”

Dooku lowered his holopad. “Who?”

“You know who,” Qui-Gon tersely responded. He moved to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a fine brandy from Corellia. He took a long drink.

Dooku understood and moved the holopad aside. “About time,” he said, folding his hands together. “You’ve always been too soft on him. It's time that boy received some hard discipline from you.”

Qui-Gon took another swing. “I injured him.”

“Good. Even better,” Dooku approved. “That will smarten him up.”

Qui-Gon finished his glass and poured another. He inhaled the fumes. “Why did you tell him the plans?”

Dooku tilted his chin up and Qui-Gon felt his master’s presence ruffle across his mind. Qui-Gon immediately slammed his shields down, cutting Dooku’s invasion off. “Answer my question,” he reiterated. “Why did you tell him? We were to assimilate him into the position. Not jump start!”

Qui-Gon used the Force to pull up a chair and he sat down in front of Dooku. “Why do you insist on undermining everything we decided?”

Dooku scoffed. “Undermine? You’re not a padawan anymore. Don’t be naïve!” he gestured arguably. “ _I_ am the only person here who is making everything work! I put my time and effort into that boy! I know _exactly_ how to push Kenobi into the spot we need him to be in.”

Qui-Gon gripped his glass tight. “My apologies, Master,” he caustically intoned. “I didn’t realize Obi-Wan was your apprentice.”

Dooku heard the sarcasm. “He may as well be,” he grunted in return. “After all, I trained him more often than you.”

“That’s because you kept sending me away on missions,” Qui-Gon returned, cheeks red from the liquor. “And you wouldn’t let him come with me.”

“That boy would have run and you know it!”

“He ran anyway," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Under both our noses, so do not throw that excuse at me!"

Dooku dangerously eyed Qui-Gon. Flares of gold shone bright in those eyes. "This is the reason I kept him away from you," he sneered, "You're too attached! Too easily manipulated by him that I was forced to step in."

“Forced?" Qui-Gon slammed the glass onto the desk. A hairline crack split the glass. "You weren't forced!” He leapt to his feet, hands still on the desk. “You simply wanted control. Always needed to have everything and everyone under your thumb. You couldn't let me raise Obi-Wan. You had to do it!”

Dooku matched Qui-Gon, standing to his full height. They were eye to eye now, glaring at one another into submission. Qui-Gon wasn’t blinded by his master’s inner workings. There was always another agenda behind the first one. How many times in his life did he discover his master’s background maneuverings? Too many. His master was not a man who liked to rely on others. Ever since a former peer betrayed him, he never trusted another. He always had to have control. He needed to know everything, his fingers pulling all the strings.

Dooku’s frown increased upon realizing Qui-Gon wasn’t backing down. “I am beginning to wonder where your loyalties lie, Qui-Gon,” he said. “To our mission or to Kenobi?”

“Both,” he claimed.

Dooku scoffed irascibly at the answer. “You cannot be loyal to both,” he admonished his former apprentice. “Either you will put the mission before Kenobi or the other way around. So far, everything you have done has pointed in the wrong direction. And I had to correct it.” He gestured animatedly, before stroking his salt-colored beard. “Yes, Kenobi is vital to the mission, but that doesn’t mean we put him before what needs to be done. Our mission will bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy! Show the might to those who try to control our gifts for their benefits! Our mission is far more important than Kenobi’s feelings.”

Qui-Gon’s face contorted, lines crevices his skin as he defiantly challenged Dooku. He went to retort, but their contest of wills was interrupted by a sudden and hesitant knock.

Dooku’s eyes shifted from Qui-Gon to the door. With an angry wave, the doors flew open to reveal Abe. The always dutiful servant in charge of Anakin’s well-being when they could not be bothered with the mundane tasks. His eyes froze as his body stiffened at the action of the doors slamming open, but he gathered up his nerves.

“I-I am sorry to disturb you, my Lords,” Abe apologized, entering the office after Dooku gestured for him to come in. “Master Skywalker’s tutor wishes to speak with you. Urgently.”

Qui-Gon and Dooku both cocked an eyebrow at the request. What could the tutor possibly wish to speak with them? She only needed to instruct the boy in his studies. How hard could that task be?

“Is she with the boy now?” Dooku lowly growled.

Abe’s eyes shifted to the side. “She’s just outside the door, my Lord.”

Dooku huffed. “Bring her in,” he said and took his seat.

Qui-Gon, as expected, moved away and off to one of the corners. He stood amongst the grey shadows, arms folded into his long sleeves, as he watched a petite brunette human stroll into the office. Abe respectfully bowed and took his leave after he introduced the tutor.

He was a smart servant.

Dooku gestured for her take a seat. The tutor promptly did. She was not an unpleasant person. Slim face, sharp eyes and respectable presence, she looked every part of an intelligent instructor. She came highly recommended, which made it all the more curious as to why she demanded an audience with them.

The tutor spoke first. “My Lords,” she started. “Thank you for meeting with me. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

She already did, Qui-Gon thought as he glanced over to Dooku. His master thought the same thing. “Then speak freely and quickly,” Dooku commanded.

The tutor obliged. “I demand extra credit or I find myself unable to continue on as Master Skywalker’s tutor.”

Dooku showed no reaction except for the mere subtle lift of his brow. “Why is that?”

The tutor looked high-strung with stiffness in her shoulders. “The boy, while certainly precocious, lacks focus,” she reported to both Lords. “Master Skywalker refuses to engage or even acknowledge my very presence. When he talks, it is for disobedience only. He has no respect or regards towards me.” She straightened in her seat, trying to appear taller, confident. “I took the job as a tutor. Not a babysitter. Therefore I must resign unless I receive a more appropriate fund to deal with Master Skywalker.”

Dooku tapped his fingers together, shaped in a form of a tent as he contemplated the ultimatum. “I shall give you an extra twenty credits,” Dooku finalized for it was the only offer she would receive.

But the tutor thought poorly of the offer. “Twenty? That’s all? Have you tried teaching that boy?” she grilled into him. “He’s impossible to tutor! I quit. You will have to find a new tutor and I should warn you that it may be impossible to find a better tutor than myself.”

Dooku’s silver brows poised in high arches as he regarded the tutor. Qui-Gon sighed softly, regretfully on her behalf. He didn’t even bother to warn her. Dooku merely raised his hand up and the tutor was yanked off her seat by her throat. She croaked, fingernails digging into her skin to free herself of the invisible binds. Qui-Gon simply watched her with pity. How did she not see that her demands would only end in death?

She was in luck, however, that Dooku decided to not play with his victim. He flicked his wrist and her neck snapped before her body flopped to the floor in a broken mess. “She wasn’t very clever,” Dooku muttered under his breath as he rose up from his seat. “Now, I have to add finding a more suitable tutor for Skywalker on my list of things to accomplish,” Dooku scrawled on a filmsi. “Along with having a visit with him.”

Qui-Gon emerged from the shadows. “I’ll do that,” he quickly offered. “I’ll see to Anakin, my master.”

Dooku raised his gaze from the filmsi to Qui-Gon. “Trying to worm your way into gaining a new apprentice?” he questioned. “One falling out and you’re done with Kenobi? Are you hoping to take on Skywalker?”

That wasn’t it at all. Qui-Gon knew Dooku’s visit with Skywalker would end with the boy in the healing wards. He wanted to avoid that, if only to spare pain for both Skywalker and Kenobi. “As we agreed upon earlier, I am to be in charge of their well-being. Or do you plans to make amendments for that as well?”

Dooku curled his nose at the challenge, but he flicked his hand in a dismissive wave. “Go on ahead then,” Dooku said. “See if you can instill manners into the boy before he becomes one of my problems.”

Qui-Gon quickly bowed and left for the library. Their discussion on Obi-Wan would have to finish at another time. He arrived at the library, listening to Anakin’s verbal abuse on how he didn’t give a damn about the tutor and how he only wanted Obi-Wan as his tutor. Qui-Gon listened to the childish temper tantrum, but finally found it tiresome. He revoked his dinner privileges and ordered droids to guard Anakin’s workbench in his room. The boy will not have access to it for the rest of the day.

Anakin got mad. He sensed the boy’s strong Force presence churning in the anger. But the boy held his tongue, learning better than to provoke him. Again, Qui-Gon was far more lenient than what Dooku would offer. A few lashings would have got him a seat next to Obi-Wan down in the halls of healing.

Once he finished disciplining Anakin, he found it was time to visit Obi-Wan in the healing rooms, see how he was and have a more civilized discussion.

* * *

Obi-Wan laid completely still. He woke up an hour ago with a medic droid puncturing him with a needle. It informed him of his injuries and treatments. The jaw was in a process of healing and needed rest, so the medic prescribe silence to him. No talking whatsoever. Life was going to be dull.

Stuck in the healing cot, Obi-Wan had time to reflect how he ended up in the healing wards. At first, the memory was a blur, but the longer he stayed awake, the more the pieces came together. Qui-Gon punched him. Hard enough to knock him unconscious and swell half of his face that resembled Master Windu’s lightsaber. Obi-Wan didn’t touch his face. It stung without even moving a muscle.

He expected Qui-Gon to make some type of appearance, but he never showed. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he felt about that. He wanted to see him, if only to rage at him. At the same time, he did not wish to see that monster! Qui-Gon fell far. Too far out of reach.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. His nose stung. Not from the bruise, but from the overly pungent sterilization of all the equipment attached to him. Eyes drooped as he studied his medical ward. Too heavy. Almost like he had no strength left within him to keep awake. Maybe it was from his concussion or… or the drugged suppressions pumping into his veins.

Obi-Wan glared at the offending object. Were they seriously pumping him with Force suppressors? How uncivilized.

Keeping focus, he yanked the tube out of his arm. Freed, he let the tube slip to the floor as he released a strained breath. That one task winded him, but he didn’t stop there. He pulled all the tubes out, freeing himself from anymore of this inhumane torture.

Stiff, Obi-Wan got into a sitting position. He cracked his neck as he took deep breaths to get his head straight. The Force slowly returned to him, like a little stream flowing into a river. Relieved of the Force growing within him, Obi-Wan encouraged himself to stand on his feet. He did with ease and got the door with no hindrance.

That was good. He had no need for droids or servants to keep him captive. His only drive was to get to Anakin. Save him from the Sith Lords. They had to get out of Serenno. Away from all the madness!

He needed to get to Anakin. That was all that mattered.

Obi-Wan slipped out of the healing hall and plodded through the corridors in search for Anakin. He followed his Force connection, sensing his young charge four levels above him. He took the turbolift and rode it in a quick secession. By the time the turbolift stopped, Obi-Wan regained enough strength to walk without any hiccups.

He followed the Force, letting it be his guide through the palace. It led him to a door where he heard strong, emotionally-charged voices emitting through the steel. He recognized Anakin’s voice. The high-pitched tone of a child yet to reach puberty. And the other, it was scathing. Strick. Emotionless.

Obi-Wan palmed the door open. The steel doors swished aside, granting him access to the chamber. He stepped over the threshold and his eyes immediately found Anakin. The boy sat at an elegantly carved table with his arms crossed as he petulantly glared at the other person in the room.

Obi-Wan didn’t have time to acknowledge the other person for Anakin immediately saw him. “Obi-Wan!” he cried, leaping up. All the anger within the boy melted in relief and joy. “Where have you been? Qui-Gon was just here. He said you were... what happened to your face?”

He didn’t answer. He only snatched Anakin’s hand and turned back to the door.

Anakin needed no encouragement as Obi-Wan led him out of the room and into the corridor. “Are we running away? Are we escaping?” Anakin kept asking as Obi-Wan hurried him around the corrido. “What happened to your face?”

Despite the deep ache that lingered, Obi-Wan verbally answered. “I fell.”

Anakin’s eyebrows crumbled in skepticism. “Fell? From what? How—”

Obi-Wan pressed onto their Force bond, signaling Anakin to drop the interrogation. Anakin understood, sealing his lips. But he still smiled in relief. His fears shed off him as he looked up to Obi-Wan, happy to have his sworn protector with him again.

They pressed on, scurrying through the palace trying to find the quickest exit that wouldn’t lead them plunging to their deaths. Obi-Wan used the mental map in his head to retrace the steps to the hanger. It was their best and only shot. Get there, hop on a freighter or even snaring a speeder bike, and escape from Qui-Gon and Dooku. They needed to get out!

Anakin picked up his pace to match Obi-Wan’s long strides. He didn’t complain. He knew the importance of what was occurring. Obi-Wan only hoped that if caught, Anakin would not receive punishment.

But they weren’t going to get caught. Obi-Wan was determined. More determined than last time. They were going to get out. They were going to breathe in fresh air and see the stars elongated before entering hyperspace.

They were—

A strong, calloused hand gripped the back of his shirt and gave a good tug. Obi-Wan choked, gasping as the tunic dug into his esophagus. Anakin twirled, rebalancing himself before falling on the floor from the sudden jerk. Obi-Wan too got spun around and found himself face-to-face with an unknown individual.

Strong, angular face with a sleek of shine to his blonde hair that it almost looked like he was bald. Dark blue eyes stared back at Obi-Wan. Not kind eyes. Hard, cold and battle worn. The man held himself up, chin tipped back to look down on others, although he was not a giant. He was the same height as Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan had no idea who the man was, but he reminded him of a soldier. The mannerisms all pointed in the direction of a soldier from his uniform to his postured stance. And if that wasn’t enough, he had a small force of armed men standing behind him in support.

The man sneered at Obi-Wan. “Going somewhere, Kenobi?”

The fact that the man knew him by name wasn’t surprising. Obi-Wan figured everyone in the palace would recognize his face and know his name. What surprised him was the accent. It was Mandalorian. And it sent Obi-Wan’s heart into a frenzy!

Did that mean that…? Satine… no, it can’t be, but… Qui-Gon said… Dooku…

The man examined Obi-Wan with traces of laugh lines itching to grow wider and deeper. “You are nothing but a boy,” claimed the Mandalorian. “Someone of your reputation, I thought you to be… taller.”

Obi-Wan snorted. Always with the height joke. Could no one come up with an original nowadays?

Anakin glared up at the man. “Let him go or you’ll be sorry!”

The Mandalorian chuckled at such proclamation. “You must be Skywalker,” he commented. “You’re even shorter than Kenobi.”

“What does size have to do with beating you?” Anakin remarked.

The Mandalorian jeered, his lips twisting. “You certainly have a mouth,” he said and his grip became ironclad. “Perhaps you’d like to talk more with your masters?” He snapped his fingers. The armed men behind him stood at attention. “Guards! Escort these two to Count Dooku and Lord Jinn. I’m sure they are sick with worry about them.”

The Mandalorian sneered at Obi-Wan as the guards swarmed him and Anakin. The odds were against them and Obi-Wan knew when retreating was better than putting up a fight. The guards ushered them back where they ran from, forcing them into a turbolift and straight up to where Obi-Wan sensed both Qui-Gon and Dooku.

Another failed escape to add to his ever-growing list.

* * *

Obi-Wan and Anakin depressingly stood before him, both looking rather bleak and angry. They haven’t said a word since they arrived, nor did they take the seat offered to them. They chose to stand, one right next to the other.

Qui-Gon didn’t care. Although, he wished Obi-Wan would at least sit down for a few moments. The side of his face still ballooned with a dark mosaic of colors. But, naturally, Obi-Wan refused the offer to sit, to even acknowledge that he was injured. Stubborn and foolish boy.

Therefore, he directed his first question to Obi-Wan. “You should be recuperating in the healing wards,” he said. “Why are you not there? It’s clear enough you aren’t healed.”

Obi-Wan’s cold gaze didn’t even flicker. “I’m fine. Minor injury,” he answered through barely parted lips. His jaw must be too sore to speak normally.

“Nonetheless, you should be resting,” Qui-Gon insisted.

“I don’t feel very rested in that room.”

Qui-Gon sighed, resting his chin in his hand. It appeared Obi-Wan went back to that stubborn attitude again. Very well, he redirected his focus on Anakin. “What about you? What were you doing in the lower quarters?”

Anakin hesitated, thinking of a lie. “Erm… exploring.”

“Exploring?”

“I haven’t seen much since I arrive,” Anakin shrugged. “I wanted to see more.”

Qui-Gon huffed short of a chuckle. A good lie, but not the truth. He didn’t need them to tell him the truth though. He already knew. They were trying to escape and it was a good thing Qui-Gon received the call rather than Dooku. His punishment for their actions would be far worse than Qui-Gon would enforce. In fact, he wouldn’t even call it punishment. It was forgiveness.

“I see,” Qui-Gon said to Anakin, eyes flickering from one to another. “For a moment, I thought the two of you were escaping. But, it appears I’m wrong. You were merely exploring the palace.” Qui-Gon rose to his feet. Anakin flinched, but Obi-Wan remained in place. No reaction at all. “If that be the case, I’ll be more than happy to give you a proper tour, Anakin. In fact, we can do it right now.”

He called for Abe, who promptly arrived as if he hid behind the door the entire time. Qui-Gon instructed him to give Anakin a tour of the palace so that he may know what is available to him. Abe obliged, gesturing for Anakin to follow him.

“Isn’t Obi-Wan coming too?” Anakin asked, looking between them.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Obi-Wan knows his way around the palace and he still needs to recuperate,” he calmly informed the boy. “You may see him afterwards in his own chambers, if you wish.”

Anakin nervously glanced to Obi-Wan for instruction, but Obi-Wan said nothing. Only did a small bob of his head to indicate it was all good. Anakin whined, but dragged his feet after Abe took his shoulders and directed him out the door, babbling on about the history of the palace.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan went the other direction. They said nothing. Obi-Wan didn’t even look in his direction, focusing straight ahead. Qui-Gon respected his need for silence and did not try to engage him. He decided to speak to him once they were inside his room, apologize and discuss in a more civilized manner than last time.

Upon arriving in Obi-Wan bedroom, Obi-Wan immediately set off to his desk, shuffling books and papers around in a hurried search. Qui-Gon watched for a brief moment before he addressed Obi-Wan.  

“I want to apologize,” he started as Obi-Wan continued messing about his desk. “I should not have hit you. That was my mistake.”

Obi-Wan scanned his desk, hands on his hips in full concentration. Qui-Gon wondered if he was even listening to him. “Obi-Wan? Are you listening?”

The young man sighed, as he took a quick survey around his room. He didn’t answer the question. He moved from his desk to his bookcase, hands dragging along the shelves in futile search for something that made Qui-Gon more curious.

But, also, annoyed. “It’s rude to ignore a person who is talking to you,” Qui-Gon said, impatient with Obi-Wan’s lack of response. “Especially when one is trying to apologize.”

Obi-Wan deserted the bookcase and went to his nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaged inside. He stopped for a moment and then his hand reached in and picked something up.

“I know,” came Obi-Wan’s soft voice as he turned around to face Qui-Gon, finally acknowledging his existence since they entered. “I was looking for this.”

He lifted the river stone for Qui-Gon to see. Qui-Gon eyed it curiously… hesitantly. “What about it?”

Obi-Wan came over and shoved the stone into Qui-Gon’s hand. “I don’t want it.”

Qui-Gon stared at the stone in his hand, offended by the gesture. “I gave you this as a present,” he said, holding the stone out to Obi-Wan. “It belongs to you.”

Obi-Wan stepped away. “It means nothing to me,” he said. “Keep it. I no longer have any use of it.”

The Sith Lord was wounded. It was his first present he ever gave to Obi-Wan, a piece of his home planet. It was a stone he treasured and happily passed onto his apprentice. Something to symbolize their partnership as Master and Padawan. To have Obi-Wan return it, another ultimate rejection like the braid he found in his room seven years ago, seared by a lightsaber not of his own.  

Qui-Gon clutched the cooling stone. “Obi-Wan... let’s not get… let’s take a moment here,” he offered to keep some resemblance of peace between them. “What I did was wrong. I should not have hurt you. I let my anger get the better of me and for that, I let you down.”

At the mention of the attack, Obi-Wan caressed the injured side of his face. The skin looked tender, but Obi-Wan’s reaction meant the pain was bearable. “Is that all you have to say?” Obi-Wan asked Qui-Gon.

The Sith Lord let his shoulders dropped just a little farther. “I do mean it, Obi-Wan,” he beseeched to his young apprentice. “I don’t want to be the monster you think I am. I don’t want to cause you any grief or pain. I want to make your life easy and comfortable.

“I know we both said things we regret to one another,” Qui-Gon continued. “A lot of things happened at once and emotions ran higher than expected. What Tahl said to me… I should have told you earlier. I should have explained it better to you and then, maybe, none of this would have occurred. We wouldn’t have this rift between us.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, feelings his words to figure if he was honest or not. He meandered a little toward his bed. He didn’t sit in it. Just stood, thinking over Qui-Gon’s words. Qui-Gon hoped he heard him and sensed the truth of what he spoke. He only ever wanted to help and protect Obi-Wan from the dangers that were crushing against the Republic. Qui-Gon knew for certain that if Obi-Wan stayed with the Jedi, he would have died young and in misery. Tahl warned him, Dooku had a vision of a possibility of it and Qui-Gon couldn’t take that chance. He wouldn’t lose Obi-Wan to that fate and he needed Obi-Wan to know that. In the end, Qui-Gon only ever wanted was to keep him safe.

The silence lulled long enough. “Say something, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon asked.

His young apprentice looked back to him. “Say what? That I forgive you?” he asked, incredulously as if the mere suggestion was an insult. “Do you still plan to use me and Anakin to overtake the galaxy?”

“It’s not like that—”

“It’s a simple yes or no question.”

Qui-Gon hummed, frustrated. “You and Anakin are destined to change the galaxy. I don’t—”

“A yes then,” Obi-Wan interrupted, nodding his head in acceptance upon the answer. “You know… a normal person wouldn’t subjugate someone they claim to care about into becoming a killer. That’s what you want me to become. A killer. A murderer of the people I care and love.

“You want to turn me into something I am against,” he pointed. “Something that will cause me a great deal or grief and pain, but you don’t care. Why would you? You haven’t before. Not in years.”

Obi-Wan walked around his desk chair. “Anakin once asked me why I stayed with you for three years,” he said to Qui-Gon. “I told him I stayed because I had hope. Hope that maybe Qui-Gon would come back to me, realize his mistake and stop this madness. But, it never happened. It only got worse.”

Obi-Wan looked back to the stone in Qui-Gon’s hand. “That’s why I don’t want it anymore,” he said in regards to the river stone. “I no longer have hope. That’s gone. For good.”

Obi-Wan turned away and went to his bed. “I’m going to rest now,” he said. “My jaw still hurts and I’m sure Dooku will wish to converse over dinner tonight. Wouldn’t want to get him mad by being unable to entertain him.”

He pulled back the covers and slipped into his bed. His head resting on the pillow and a sigh of great relief came. Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes drift to a close and his lips pressed down to a thin line. He was done talking. Done listening.

Qui-Gon sighed. A terrible rumble in his guts. Unsure what to do, he left Obi-Wan’s bedroom. He mulled over the river stone in his hand, debating what to do with the now discarded gift. After a long moment, Qui-Gon returned the cold river stone in his pocket, deciding to hold on to it in case… no, Obi-Wan sounded assertive. He wasn’t going to change his mind. But, Qui-Gon tucked the stone in his pocket. He’ll keep the stone anyway. Because, while Obi-Wan may no longer have hope, Qui-Gon did.


	43. Coming Undone

“Does it hurt?”

Anakin laid beside him, head on the pillow and eyes on the bruised face. Obi-Wan tenderly prodded his swollen cheek. It felt fine. Ached only a little. “Not as much when I first woke.”

“I meant the back of your head,” Anakin pointed to the back of his head. “Looks like you hit your head.”

Obi-Wan reached for the back and felt a small lump there. “Didn’t even noticed,” he confessed, “but that may be because I have had a constant headache since I have arrived.”

Anakin understood. He curled his knees up to his chest. “It’s cold,” he moaned. “Is it always this cold?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responded, face looking up at the ceiling. The same ceiling he looked up for years. “It hardly ever gets warm. Even when you are under the sun.”

Anakin scrunched his little face. “I don’t like the cold.”

Anakin’s tour of the palace ended quickly enough. Anakin barged into his room without announcement or decorum. Not that Obi-Wan cared for such thing. He was quite used to people barging into his room without permission. And out of everyone in the palace, Anakin was the only person who he would have welcomed.

They both laid on the bed, not speaking very much. Just drifting in and out of thoughts. They spoke a few times, but most of the time was spent on reflection.

Anakin turned, taking a bit of the covers with him. “Why did he hurt you?”

Obi-Wan let out an uncomfortable sigh. “I may have said some things that angered him.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing to get worried over, Anakin.”

Anakin didn’t retreat. “But, I have to know ‘cause what if I say it too?”

Obi-Wan turned his head to the side, eyes meeting Anakin’s blue. “It was about an old friend,” he said to him. “Someone we used to know.”

“Who was it?” Anakin asked, tone dropped to a whisper. “Do I know them too?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “She died long before you, Anakin,” he informed the boy. “I was still a Jedi when she passed into the Force.”

Suddenly, Anakin’s eyes subdued. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’m quite all right. It was a long time ago,” Obi-Wan reassured Anakin.

“What was her name?”

Obi-Wan pictured Tahl immediately. Tall for a human, dark-honey skin, gold eyes and that radiant smile whenever she saw him. She was so alive in his memories. He wished she was alive in his eyes. “Tahl,” he answered with a mere breath. “Her name was Tahl. She was… like a mother to me.

“She liked to sing. Hum little tunes,” Obi-Wan continued on as he reminisced his almost-forgotten past. “I used to fall asleep to them at times. They were very peaceful. In fact, I used to sing some of them to you when you were sick or sad.”

“You did?” Anakin piped in interest.

Obi-Wan hummed a quick, soothing tune. Anakin’s eyes widened in remembrance. “You learned that song from her?”

“I learned a great deal of things from her. She was a great source of entertainment and the only person I knew who could put Qui-Gon in his place,” Obi-Wan chuckled a little at seeing his long-gone master surrendering to Tahl’s orders. “Often read to me when I was in the healer’s ward or played games to help take my mind of things. She was a good person. Compassionate and happy…”

Obi-Wan sighed, blinking back a tear. “I miss her,” he confessed. “Sometimes, when I am most troubled, I think I hear her. Singing to me, as if she was right next to me, helping me overcome my doubts and fears.”

Anakin scrunched his face in consideration. “Maybe she is.”

“What?”

Anakin moved closer. “You’re always telling me that there’s no death, just the Force. Maybe she isn’t really dead?” he speculated. “Maybe she and mom are right here in this very room. We just can’t see them because we restrain ourselves.”

Obi-Wan was bewildered, impressed and confused all at once. “I never thought I would hear my teachings repeated back to me,” he admitted and turned onto his side, hands sliding underneath his pillow. “So, you’re saying that they didn’t die. They simply became part of the Force?”

Anakin half-shrugged. “Something like that, yeah. I mean, sometimes, I think I feel a presence beside me. Even when I’m alone. Someone who’s sad and happy.”

That would be a good definition of Shmi Skywalker. Sad, but happy that her son escaped the hellish life of a slave child. It was only unfortunate that he was trapped by madmen.

“You never mentioned this to me before,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “How long have you felt this presence?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Just here and there sometimes. I thought it was you for a while, but then… it didn’t  _feel_  like you. It felt different.” Anakin picked the edges of the blanket. “So, maybe it's mom and Tahl. Standing beside us, watching over us?”

Obi-Wan thought it over. It was a possibility. He never considered the idea that the dead linger. The Jedi Code did state that there was no death, but the Force. Perhaps Anakin was right. Maybe the dead never truly leave them. They become one with the Force and as Jedi, they can sense them, maybe even reach them if they grow more into their powers. Or maybe Anakin can. Obi-Wan already peaked with his Force abilities.

“Maybe you’re right,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “Maybe it is really them, speaking to us and looking after us.”

Anakin smiled. “I like to think so.”

“Me too,” Obi-Wan agreed. They were quiet for a moment, trying their best to sense or hear another presence. Maybe it was a bit foolish to do so, but nonetheless, they did. 

After no response, Obi-Wan sighed as his stomach uncomfortable babbled. "I doubt we will be invited to dinner tonight," he said to Anakin. "You wanna eat in?"

Anakin's face fell. "I'm not allowed to eat."

“What?”

“Qui-Gon said I'm not allowed dinner," Anakin repeated and added to clarify, "I drove my teacher out of the library today.”

Obi-Wan groaned inward. "Why did you scare off your teacher?"

“Because I didn't like her. She was mean. She didn't listen to me," Anakin defended his actions. "She treated me like I was stupid. I'm not stupid.”

“No, you're not," Obi-Wan agreed, "but that doesn't mean you throw tantrums and be mean to others.”

Anakin lowered his head, his gaze focused on something other than Obi-Wan. "It wasn't a tantrum. I was defending myself."

“Against someone who was instructing you in arithmetic?”

Anakin scrunched his nose up, but dared not look back to Obi-Wan. "She was still being mean," he pouted.

Obi-Wan didn't doubt that the instructor treated Anakin unfavorably. However, the reasoning might be due to her belief that he lacked formal education. Anyone who entered the palace to instruct someone by orders of the rulers knew better than to treat them with aggression or poorly. It would cost them their life. 

Suddenly, ice formed in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps, it already did. "Will you see your teacher tomorrow?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin indifferently shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that she stormed out and then Qui-Gon took my dinner away from me."

She was probably dead then. Better to not dwell on the subject any longer or Anakin may ask the wrong question. "Well, you may have lost your dinner privileges, but I have not," Obi-Wan got up from the bed and headed over to the speaker services. The one Dooku set up when he kept him locked inside for days. "I wonder what I should order... hmm. Anakin? Got any suggestions?"

Anakin shrugged again. "No."

“Surely you must," Obi-Wan prompted him. "Come on! If you could eat anything, what would it be?”

Anakin pinched his brows forward in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess, spiceloaf."

Always the spicy things. Anakin loved any food that basically burned his tongue. "What about buckwheat noodles?" Obi-Wan suggested as an alternative. Anakin only scrunched his face up in disgust. "Fine. Spiceloaf. But I am ordering some stewfruit and beans too."

He pressed the button to order. Joline's voice came in on the other side, ecstatic to hear his voice again and asked how he was. Obi-Wan made the polite chatter before he sent in the food order. Joline promised to get it there soon. 

They continued talking, spending their time speaking of pointless subjects and Anakin asking Obi-Wan if he thought Padme was safe. Obi-Wan ensured Anakin that Padme was safe on her own planet. Anakin nodded, but Obi-Wan sensed the boy’s apprehension. He feared the Sith may attack her again now that they were not on planet to protect her.

The door’s chime rang and Obi-Wan got up to answer the door. He clicked it open, expecting Joline with a cart full of food that they ordered _and_ didn’t order. She always liked to spoil him with treats.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Joline or the food at all. It was a servant with a letter addressed to him. Obi-Wan read it and sighed.

He folded the letter. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said to the boy. “It appears my attendance is needed elsewhere tonight.”

Anakin shot up. “What? Why?”

“Who knows,” Obi-Wan said, but he got an idea why. “Stay here, though. The food will come and you may help yourself to whatever I can no longer eat.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan attempted a smile to quell Anakin’s fears. “I must get ready now.”

And Obi-Wan entered the refresher, turning on the sonic shower to prepare for whatever the next punishment may be.

* * *

“Ah—right on time. Pour him a glass, Alwyn.”

The servant to Dooku’s right hurried over and poured a glass of wine before passing it to Kenobi's hands. Dooku watched Kenobi politely thanked the servant upon acceptance, however, the young man didn’t take a drink. Rather, Kenobi kept an easy grip on the stem as he made his approach to him.

Dooku took Kenobi’s chin and turned his face so that the light hit squarely upon where a lingering bruised remained. It wasn’t bad and the swelling had certainly diminished. “You look good,” he commented, letting his fingers drop from Kenobi’s chin. “Does it hurt?”

Kenobi shook his head. “No, Master.”

“Good,” Dooku wanted Kenobi to pay attention tonight. “We have important guests tonight and you need a good impression.”

Kenobi cocked his head to the side. “Another one of your deluded followers by chance?”

Dooku sneered at the remark. “Careful,” he warned. “These guests do not take insults or _creative feedback_ as you fondly refer it.”

Kenobi smirked in response.

Dooku scoffed at Kenobi's fatuous attitude. "Now, let me introduce you to our honorary guests.”

In the next room, Dooku introduced Kenobi to the two men seated on the leather couches. The two men smartly rose to meet them. Kenobi slowed his step, evaluating the guest with a hint of mistrust. Dooku imagined Kenobi did it for all those he greeted in the palace.

Dooku stopped Kenobi and kept him by his side. “Allow me to make the introductions,” he said. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my grandson—if you will. Obi-Wan, this is Pre Vizsla, the prime minister of Mandalorian. And Tal Merrik, the Duke of Mandalore.”

A furious recognition flared up in Kenobi as they were introduced. Not surprising at all, considering Kenobi’s relationship with the former ruler of Mandalorian.

Tal Merrik unkindly peered at him. “I have heard much about you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “Your affair with our faux leader was quite the gossip."

Kenobi's jaw hardened upon the insult to his character. If directed at Dooku, the man would have dropped dead by now. Instead, Kenobi took his first sip of wine. "I'm sorry I have yet to hear anything of you, my good Duke," he said in that pleasant manner of his. "My social circles rarely indulge in the personal lives of individuals we hardly know. We don't have the time, considering our actual importance in the galaxy."

Merrik's face creviced as he glowered at Kenobi for his impertinent remark. Not that Kenobi was far off in his observation. Tal Merrik was nothing more than an over-indulged child who believed power belonged to him because he was of some royal descendant. Dooku found Pre Vizsla far more respectable than Merrik, but they needed a royal figurehead and Merrik was easily manipulated into doing whatever Dooku wanted. 

Not needing to cause an argument outright, Dooku indulged Merrik with a slight scolding to Kenobi. "Enough," he lightly warned Kenobi, sending a message quite clear through the Force. He turned to the guests. "Let's sit and discuss the reason you have come to Serenno."

Pre Vizsla and Merrik returned to their seats while Dooku took a single chair that was positioned at the head to show his more significant importance of all of them. Kenobi made no move to join them. Not at the beginning. But, with one look, Kenobi bowed to Dooku's silent demands and took the next available seat across from the two Mandalorians. 

Dooku put his wine glass down on the side-table. "You sought for our audience," he said to the Mandalorians. "What wisdom are you seeking?"

The two Mandalorians sat further up, straightening their shoulders to begin their speech. "We came for confirmation in regards to our former ruler," Pre Vizsla started, tenting his hands near his chin. "After all, we were promised that the situation with her would be handled."

Dooku hummed, darkly. He knew what they were insinuating. And it appeared Kenobi did as well by the smug look on his face. "I see," he said, "and you wish to have confirmation on that promised arrangement, correct?"

“Yes.”

Fools. To think their status granted them permission to test Dooku was a foolish mistake. Dooku found their lack of faith distasteful and dishonorable. While the former Duchess may not be in the palace, she had no chance of escaping Serenno. In fact, Dooku was more than sure that the Duchess already perished in the jungle. He had no proof, but her lack of appearance all pointed in that conclusion. 

Dooku, however, kept up his civility as he was not an animal. He looked from Pre Vizsla to Tal Merrik. "I see... and, pray, what brought this sudden desire to know of the Duchess's hospitality?"

Pre Vizsla nudged Merrick, who took the hint. He reached into his belt and pulled out his comm. He opened a recording for all to hear: 

_My dear Duke. I have learned that Satine is no longer in the custody of Lord Tyranus or Lord Jinn. Word on Coruscant is that she has reached Naboo and is under the protection of the Queen. I must return to my senatorial duties, but I knew you needed to know._

The message ended and Merrick closed the comm down. Pre Vizsla pouted, his soured face morphed into an ugly child that Dooku would have flicked aside if it weren't for the fact he needed Pre Vizsla in control of Mandalore. "Is that all?"

Pre Vizsla bristled. "Is that all?" he seethed. "You were charged in executing that foul woman!"

“We made no such bargain," Dooku remembered. "We promised only to ensure she would no longer have access to Mandalore.”

“And the only way to guarantee that is her death," Merrick spat, redness creeping up his neck. "So is this information correct? Has she joined forces with the Queen of Naboo?”

Dooku wasn't sure. He hoped it to be a rumor. "She had escaped the palace a few days ago," he decided to answer. "We are in the process of recollecting her."

"In the _process_?" Pre Vizsla huffed. “Is this how you _handle_ things, Count?”

“We had a bout of incompetency among our ranks,” Dooku said, but the steel within his words would have been sharp enough to make Pre Vizsla bleed. “But that has been taken care of.”

“Like the way you took care of the Duchess?” Merrick remarked as his eyes darted off to the side, away from Dooku. “Are you amused, boy?”

Dooku looked over to Kenobi. Indeed, Kenobi was relaxed, arms draped over the chair’s armrests and the corner of his lips tugged gently to displayed his amusement.

Kenobi’s smile lifted a little higher. “Oh, most certainly.”

The two Mandalorians fumed at Kenobi’s cheekiness. Their faces turned red, but their intense glowers didn’t intimidate Kenobi. The young man raised his brows and nonchalantly gestured, “Don’t let me distract you,” he said in a charmed voice that was overly sweet. Enough to irate the two Mandalorians. “Please, continue…”

Tal Merrick burned. His whole body shook in one long tremor. “How dare you! I am the Duke of Mandalore!” he half-shouted. “I will not tolerate such _insolence_!” He abruptly turned back to Dooku. “I want this _scum_ reprimanded at once!”

Dooku cocked an eyebrow at the blatant command. Dooku’s own tolerance toward the new acting ruler of Mandalore dwindled every second. He directed a look to Kenobi, but all he got in return was a challenging stare. Kenobi did not fear the consequences. Not that Dooku had any for him.

“Ignore him,” Dooku advised, brushing Kenobi’s impish behavior aside. “Now—if you wish to question our arrangement—”

“Yes, we do,” Pre Vizsla reputed. “You refused to uphold the end of your bargain. You seem to have little control of what’s going on and it shows with your refusal to discipline your _grandson_.”

Merrick glared at Kenobi for a brief moment. “We are beginning to question if this partnership is even worth it,” he said, looking back to Dooku. “After all, you and Lord Jinn have failed to deliver on your promise.”

“The promise in regards to eliminating Duchess Satine?” Dooku said for confirmation.

“Among other things,” Pre Vizsla added on. “The transition process has not gone well and we asked repeatedly for help in the trade markets. You have yet to address nor work on the problem.”

“That is not my duty,” Dooku answered, directing his next words to Merrick. “As you so eloquently said a mere minute ago, you are the new ruler of Mandalore. It is your job to control the planet and fix any of its problems. Not mine. We already provided you the tools and weapons to help you obtain the throne. All that we ask was the Duchess and your loyalty.” Dooku lifted his wine glass from the table and drew in a sip. “If anything, you have failed to show your end of the promise.”

“We?” Merrick repeated in doubt before it turned to an acrimonious affair. “We have done all that you asked!”

“You have done only what you wanted,” Dooku countered. “We did not ask you to overthrow your own government. We asked that when the time came, you give us the Duchess to take care of. We provided you with the weapons needed to win that battle. I even invited you into my home, after showing up unannounced.

“Then you come into my home, drink my wine and then belittle me and shout out demands from me,” Dooku’s voice grew heavier, darker, the dark side answering to his call. “And what? What were you hoping to obtain from using such… brute manners?”

Merrick and Pre Vizsla said nothing, already aware that they trespassed into dangerous terroitory. Pre Vizsla seemed to have a good understanding, dropping his head in respect to Dooku. “We wanted to—”

Merrick, the squirmy hapless ruler, interrupted Pre Vizsla’s attempt to defuse the situation. “You left us no choice!” Merrick shouted. “After we got that message, we came at once. Imagine our surprise to discover that she’s not dead!”

“It wasn’t our arrangement to kill the girl.”

“She’s not a girl!” Merrick spat, making Dooku irk at the slobber falling onto his pricey rug. “She’s a formable threat that should have been taken care of on the first day.” Merrick stood up from his chair, face rigid in anger. “If you will not do what is necessary, then I shall. I’ll kill the bitch myself.”

Merrick nudged Pre Vizsla to get up as well. “We will leave,” he decided, arrogantly like he was the most valuable person in the room. “Mandalore officially parts with this alliance.”

Dooku’s teeth grinded together. “Is that so?” he questioned, dangerously. Yet, the Mandalorians missed it entirely. “And, pray tell me, how do you expect to be received in the Senate? I mean, how will you explain what happened to the Duchess? Or how the Death Watch got to power? I’m sure even the Jedi will be interested in hearing the story.”

Merrick stopped, realizing the unescapable situation presented to him. But a cruel, ugly smile popped onto his face. “Mandalore has been around long before the Republic and shall continue to live on way past it as well,” he boasted. “I share none of your worries about that weak government anyway.

“And as for the Duchess,” he sneered, gaze shifting from Dooku to Kenobi. “Pre Vizsla is good at finding people. He’ll find the whore and when he do, I’ll fuck her so hard, she’ll bleed. Then I’ll pass her along to my companions to share before we cut her throat out.

“But I’m feeling generous,” Merrick’s devilish grin remained, gleeful at Kenobi’s downturned expression. “I know how much you love Satine, so I’ll send you her heart. All broken and cut to bits.”

Dooku had the nerve to snap the new duke’s neck. His arrogance and inflated ego made him think he was untouchable, that he could easily deck out threats to them or change the power status between them.

It was time to remind Tal Merrick and Pre Vizsla of their place. And it wasn’t where they believed they belonged.

Merrick stepped away from his chair, moving to the door when he stuttered and bumbled to a stop. He coughed. Hacked, more like it. His fingers vigorously rubbed along his esphoagus. He let out another hack, but he found himself unable to suck in more air to relieve himself.

Same with Pre Vizsla. He rose up to assist Tal Merrick, but he too faltered. His hands reached for his throat, face straining and veins bulging along his neck.

Dooku narrowed his eyes. This was the work of the Force, but Dooku wasn’t utilizing it at the moment. That meant…

He turned and saw Kenobi. He was still seated, but his livid eyes never strayed from the two Mandalorians. His frowned deepened and his hands, both clutched into fists. The dark side roiled, amassing in waves of a strong current.

Dooku reached out, sinking his claws into Kenobi’s Force presence.  Not that Kenobi noticed. Far too focused on the Mandalorian threats. But, Dooku sensed the anger, the fear that consumed the brightness within his soul. Satine. The Duchess of Mandalore. The young girl Qui-Gon said Obi-Wan loved as a teenager. Kenobi’s whole heart burst with love for the girl and Merrick’s threat to her shifted that love enough into the growing fear residing in Kenobi.

And now, Dooku watched Kenobi suffocate the Mandalorians for their bullish attempt to hold all the cards in their hands. Did they truly think they would leave Serenno unscathed? Or even alive?

Fools, Dooku thought as he reclined in his seat, watching them witness the true power Dooku owned.

Dooku proudly viewed the two Mandalorians struggled for breath. Their throats collapsing in as their last gasps turned to a suffocating silence. Dooku gleamed as Kenobi forcibly choked their rudeness into submission.

But, a strange realization fell upon Kenobi’s face. The young man looked alarmed as he uncurled his fingers in an instant. Merrick and Pre Vizsla dropped, falling over themselves as their lungs heaved for air to recuperate from their near death experience.

Meanwhile, Kenobi quivered where he stood. His hands fidgeting in some desperate attempt to grab onto something to steady himself. All the heated energy radiating off him evaporated and Kenobi fell back in his seat as well, eyes looking downward at his trembling hands.

Dooku sighed. Admittedly, he was not overly disappointed. It was a good start down the right path. He looked back to Merrick and Pre Vizsla, his face morphed into a serious contender. “I think we spared enough of our time listening to your complaints,” he said. “I believe we are at an understanding now. Unless, the message wasn’t quite clear?”

Both Merrick and Pre Vizsla obediently shook their heads. Quick learners, Dooku thought as he got up from his seat. “I’ll have the guards escort you to your ship,” he said. “Next time you feel the need to question our legitimacy, I hope you remember this.”

Dooku tapped Kenobi’s shoulders to follow. At first, the young man didn’t move. Still frozen and he looked cold. Dooku used the Force to tug him along and Kenobi got the hint to follow him as the guards came to aid the two Mandalorians from the floor.

They exited the room, strolling down the corridors of the palace. Dooku didn’t say a word. He watched Kenobi from the corner of his eye, observing every fidget, blink and breath Kenobi made as the young man tried to convince himself of the lie.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Dooku finally said, garnering Kenobi’s attention at last. “They deserved it.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

Dooku chuckled. “You do,” he said, staring down at Kenobi. The young man looked absolutely miserable. He softened his tone, sounding far gentler than he ever was for Kenobi. “It gets easier. Once you get through the pain, it’ll be easier. I promise.”

Kenobi screeched to a halt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he half-shouted, breathless. “I didn’t do anything! You did! You… _you_ hurt them.”

“Oh—I wished I did,” Dooku dreamt of the ways he wanted to slice and dice Merrick. “But, you seemed to be handling them quite well on your own.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Dooku flashed a smooth and knowing smile. “Of course,” he said. “Whatever you tell yourself to get you through it.”

Kenobi’s eyes burned. There was fire beneath that cool glare. Enough to make the dark side flare up within the young man.

Dooku grinned in victory. “It’s late,” he decided, although he’s gone to bed much later than before. “You need your sleep if you wish to feel better by the morning.”

He waved a set of guards. “Return him to his chambers,” he ordered and the magnaguard droids boxed Kenobi in, pressuring him to move.

Dooku stayed where he was and watched Kenobi walk off, the oily tendrils of the dark side still clinging to him despite his attempts to shed them off. Dooku couldn’t be more pleased by the outcome of tonight’s entertainment. Kenobi finally and willingly used the dark side. Something that even Qui-Gon struggled to get his old padawan to do all through their years together.

All Dooku had to do was put Kenobi in a room that threatened the life of the woman he loved most in the galaxy. All too easy.

With a winning smirk etched on his face, Dooku headed back to his office, planning out other exercises for their chosen heir.

* * *

Obi-Wan never felt so violently sick in his life. He wanted nothing more than to vomit out the vile that wretched his guts and poisoned his body. But it wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t numb the pain or erase the cold feeling that encased him in constant shivers. It wasn’t a physical illness at all.

It was a Force illness.

Obi-Wan pictured his hands curled. He remembered his thoughts, the angry roars inside his head as he desired to end Satine’s tormentors once and for all. His heart thundered at the mere threats Tal Merrick and Pre Vizsla issued against her. All Obi-Wan knew was that he needed to protect Satine. Save her from such horrendous monsters that were loose upon the galaxy.

He was doing the right thing. He was protecting her. Stopping the villains from hurting her and others. He was saving them. Saving her…

And then he remembered what he did. He recalled the Mandalorians struggling for breath and Dooku… oh Force! He saw Dooku’s lips curled into a pride. It made Obi-Wan’s stomach lurch.

Dooku was so pleased! He even smiled at him. Smiled so wide that Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. Dooku acted like he already won the battle between them. His talk afterwards showed some care, but it was more mockery than anything. At least, to Obi-Wan it was.

No, Obi-Wan couldn’t let Dooku win. He wouldn’t let the Sith win.

When the guards got him to the door, Obi-Wan hurried in and slammed it shut. To his mild surprise, he found Anakin still in his room, surrounded by half-eaten food from the dinner Obi-Wan ordered.

The boy was sound asleep, falling into a food coma. He didn’t even hear Obi-Wan enter his chambers again.

Obi-Wan hurried to Anakin’s side and gently shook him awake. “Anakin? Anakin?” he whispered in urgency. “Wake up!”

Anakin sleepily blinked. He curled up his nose, unhappy to be forced awake from a pleasant sleep. He yawned and stretched his muscles awake. “What is it?” he muttered, rubbing his fists in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving,” Obi-Wan said, lifting Anakin right off the bed. “Now.”


End file.
